Crazy For You
by Whitelighter Enchantress
Summary: COMPLETE Sydney and the gang must go on an undercover mission and put on a production of Crazy For You. Set during S3. SV.
1. Overture

**Crazy For You**

by Whitelighter Enchantress

Chapter 1: Overture 

A/n: Welcome to Crazy For You, a production by Whitelighter Enchantress. This production stars Sydney Bristow, Michael Vaughn, and the rest of the crew during early Season 3 (Sydney knows Lauren and Vaughn are married, and Sark hasn't escaped yet). So everyone goes on an undercover mission to put on an off Broadway run of "Crazy for You" in order to investigate the activities of a mysterious group known as Omega. It kind of fits under several genres so expect anything. Rated PG I guess, maybe PG-13. This is also posted at SD-1.

Disclaimer: I do not own Alias or anything to do with Alias. It all belongs to JJ Abrams. You think if I give him a cookie he'll trade?

_Lights, Camera, Action!_

Some things just never change. It can be a childhood scar on a knee, or how an aunt never ceases to leave lipstick on the cheek she kisses, or even the monotonous routine of feeding the cat. But for Sydney Bristow, it was the bitter taste of stale coffee. Even after a two year disappearance, nobody seemed to bother to make a new pot during the late morning – (they were at the CIA for goodness sake; the most intelligent human beings of America couldn't figure out how to make fresh coffee?) – an act that always bothered her, seeing as Sydney was always the last one to get around to filling her cup. She reluctantly finished off the last gulp of the agonizing, cold liquid, hiding a contorted face she normally would have made. But she had to be professional; she was in the CIA.

She mocked herself internally. There she was, Sydney Bristow: Super-Spy, pondering coffee amidst an important meeting. Shouldn't she be paying attention to Dixon? _Director Dixon_, she corrected herself.

She sighed, staring at the man who was once her equal. And then there were the things that had changed completely...

There stood Dixon, explaining something that Sydney should listen to, his strong hands directing in the air in front of him. Sydney couldn't believe how well he was succeeding at the single parent life. It was amazing his transformation after losing his wife, Diane, in only two years. Sydney couldn't imagine such a change in herself after losing someone she loved so dearly. But then again...

Her eyes wandered down to the people seated at the surrounding table. Her father, Marshall, Carrie, Vaughn, Lauren, and finally Weiss next to her. They meandered back to Vaughn, who's forehead was wrinkled as he stared intently at Dixon, listening with one raised eyebrow. How she yearned to press her lips softly against his wrinkled forehead, for him to smile up at her and then meet her lips with his own, and for them to be so focused on each other that the world would stop spinning.

Sydney's vision was clouded by rain, however, when a diamond-clad hand interrupted all thought processes by simply touching the object of affection. Lauren's delicate hand began to massage Vaughn's forearm, causing him to glance at her and smile briefly. Sydney was sure that Lauren was just smiling right back at him. No, not a smile, a filthy smirk that said to Sydney, 'Ha-ha, he's mine now,' which deserved nothing but a brutal stabbing for Lauren. As far as Sydney was concerned, no one but herself should be stroking Vaughn's arm that way.

And that was definitely the grandest of the changes. It was not the different emotion from her father. It was not the fact that Carrie was pregnant with Marshall's baby. And it was not the fact that she had a newfound friend in Eric Weiss. It was that Vaughn no longer loved Sydney; that he had abruptly – and wrongly, might Sydney add – chosen to give up on them and take a new wife.

_Technically, it's not his fault_, a small voice taunted Sydney in the back of her mind. While she mentally bashed this voice with a hammer, she bit her lip in knowledge that the voice was right. Vaughn thought that Sydney had died; he only moved on. _But I didn't die!_ she wanted to scream. _I was taken!_ But there was nothing more she could do.

Vaughn had dropped her off to pack for a trip to Santa Barbara, a trip both of them were in great anticipation for. They both knew their feelings of love for one another would emerge. But when Sydney arrived in her apartment, a message from Will told her that Francie was an evil clone, and they proceeded to fight to her death. Unfortunately, Sydney had collapsed in the process, and woke up in an alley in Hong Kong two years later.

She had no recollection of the two years, yet she wished she had. Who had taken her? Why? What could Sydney possibly have that someone would want? _I'm obviously not the best agent here if I can't even pay attention in a mission briefing..._ She took the guilty pain with humility.

However, what she wanted to know more than ever was why Vaughn could not wait. He didn't wait for her. She returned and he had married someone else, this Lauren Reed, who's British accent made Sydney want to choke herself to death. She absolutely despised everything about that woman all because of her position. What should have been _Sydney's_ position. There was never supposed to be a Mrs. Vaughn who's name wasn't Sydney Anne Bristow.

And so she went on, staring at Lauren, naming all the things she hated: her bushy eyebrows, how her hair was a different color than them, her overbite the size of Texas –

"You'd think a terrorist leader would have a more creative alias than the White Russian," Weiss whispered to Sydney, interrupting her current thoughts. "That sounds like a fricken drink."

She nodded lightly in response, finally knocked back into the meeting. She reluctantly released her eyes to look at the screen behind (Director) Dixon, upon which a large picture of a man was projected. Sydney recognized him as Viktor Yudin, a known terrorist throughout the Europe and Asia, and of growing infamy in the Americas. _He must be the White Russian_, Sydney assumed.

While his projected image intrigued Sydney slightly, she ripped her eyes back to Vaughn and Lauren. Lauren had – thankfully – removed her hand from Vaughn's forearm, yet had brought it to unbutton her coat. She took it off and placed it around the back of the seat, revealing a shirt that had been hidden before. _She changes her clothes more than a Barbie_, Sydney decided. She also decided that Barbie had gone home from her play date with the wrong Ken. This Ken had already been worn down with another, had accessories only to that other, and belonged only to that other. British Bitch Barbie would have to get someone new. Sydney internally snickered at her new nick name for Lauren.

"And how about you, Sydney?"

Sydney's eyes immediately darted to Dixon, and she noticed that everyone's eyes were focused on her. She couldn't contain a light blush that formed on her cheeks. "Well..." she began slowly. Inside she was smacking herself in the forehead for not paying attention. Why had she been daydreaming about Vaughn and mocking Lauren? Why?

"Don't be modest," Weiss said, "you know you're a good singer and dancer."

She gave Weiss a glance of thanks. "I'm not bad, I suppose." Sydney was utterly confused. What did her singing and dancing abilities matter? Was this still the Central Intelligence Agency, or had it turned to an office talent show?

Meanwhile, Dixon asked Vaughn the same question, to which he responded that he was a little rusty. "Oh, Michael, you aren't rusty at all," Lauren beamed at her husband. It took Sydney extreme restraint to not openly mock the British Barbie.

Weiss adjusted in his seat and leaned into the table. "So what does singing and dancing have to do with the mission?" he asked, much to Sydney's delight. They obviously knew no more than she did.

Dixon cleared his throat. "We have finally linked activity of Omega to a small theater in New York City." And then it clicked; the White Russian was the leader of this rogue group. And they would have to somehow put two and two together and prove their existence, capturing them all in the process. But how would they get close enough to do that? Dixon continued. "You will be going undercover as actors, actresses, backstage crew, etc., to put on an off Broadway production of the musical 'Crazy for You.' You leave tomorrow for Detroit at seven AM sharp. There you will receive your alias, further instructions of this mission, and dance and vocal training. Any questions?"

No one raised his or her hand or replied, though Sydney was bubbling over with questions. She scolded herself. Why hadn't she been paying attention?

Dixon dismissed the meeting, and everyone promptly fled from the room. Sydney's eyes followed Vaughn out the door until Weiss came into view. They were among the last to leave. Sydney and Weiss walked slowly together until Sydney was out of range of the office. "Okay, I admit, I wasn't exactly focused in the meeting. I need you to answer some questions for me."

Weiss gave her a cheesy grin. "Me? Better behaved than the great Sydney Bristow? Never!" Sydney stared at him for a moment in desperation. "Okay, what questions do you have?"

"Well... Could you just start from the beginning of the meeting and tell me everything that happened until Dixon asked me about my singing and dancing?"

"Wow, you really weren't listening, were you? Uh, sure. Let's go grab some lunch and I'll explain everything." She followed Weiss to his desk, where he grabbed a pathetic paper bag lunch, and then to Sydney's desk. He sat down opposite the desk from her and emptied the bag's contents onto the desk top. Sydney rolled her eyes at him. "Okay," he started, taking a bite of his sandwich (which Sydney was surprised to learn was not peanut butter and jelly). "I'll just give you the quick summary. We're going on a mission to New York City. We'll be acting in a musical."

"Thank-you, I know that."

"Hey, who's doing the explaining here? That's what I thought. Anyway, a few days ago, several members of the cast were mysteriously murdered. This is part of the link to Omega. But the director went crazy angry after them and he fired a great deal of his cast. This gave the CIA the perfect opportunity to step in. Not many people are likely to audition for the roles because, one, they're scared of the director, two, there isn't much time left to rehearse until Opening Night in mid-January, and three, because several major Broadway shows are beginning their auditions during the production of this musical. And the musical is only running for three weeks, anyway. Real actors want more exposure, I guess."

"Okay, that I understand, but what exactly are we doing once we get our parts?"

"We get those details tomorrow in Detroit, but the major goal is to find as many people as possible who may work in Omega, and if we're lucky, find our lead to the White Russian."

"Who's real name is Viktor Yudin?"

Weiss shrugged. "We're not exactly sure, but it's most likely. He's had ties to Omega in the past."

Sydney nodded solemnly, taking it all in. She felt rather skeptical to this entire mission, partly due to the mockery of everyone as an actor, and partly to the uncertainty of the ties. What if Omega was not truly involved? What if the White Russian was not related to the happenings in New York or even Omega at all? She supposed it did not matter either way, the CIA always tended to find something in these situations. Or perhaps, she mused, there was something deeper in this assignment that no one yet was made aware of. Perhaps the CIA had an alternate endgame to prepare for while its agents toiled around for a few months.

Now she wanted major involvement. "You know what?" she asked Weiss as he wiped dribbled mayonnaise off his chin. "I think this mission will be a good one."

"Whatever you say, I mean, you are the master at this game we call life."

She chuckled, looking away briefly. It was no surprise to her that her eyes settled on Vaughn at his desk. Naturally, Lauren stood by his side and they chatted casually. "Am I now?" she asked in a mumble, staring at what had been stolen from her. "Sometimes I'm not exactly sure."

Weiss followed her gaze and found Vaughn and Lauren – the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow – and promptly moved in front of them to block Sydney's gaze. "Hey," he said, forcing her to look in his eyes. "You just concentrate on your job. Try not to let yourself get absorbed in your emotions. Just think of it as breaking up; you'll get over it eventually, right?"

She nodded idly as he patted her shoulder in comfort, all while thinking of her disagreement with his statement. Sydney refused to think of it as a breakup, and she did not think this was something she was able to simply "get over."

Weiss had opened his mouth to speak again, only to close it as Jack Bristow appeared at Sydney's side. Jack glanced at Weiss with distaste before turning to Sydney. "I just wanted to tell you, Sydney, do not worry having to move all your furniture again. The facility in Detroit will suffice, and your apartment in New York will be fully furnished. Agent Weiss, shouldn't you be reviewing that paperwork I sent you?"

"Yes, sir," Weiss nodded eagerly, straightening up. Sydney raised her eyebrow playfully at his fear and whispered a thanks to her father. "Okay, he _definitely_ just came over here to say that he hates me..." Sydney laughed, shaking her head. "But he's right, I should go. Remember what I said, though."

It did turn out to be something she continued to ponder as the day went on, and even into the evening while she packed. The realization finally hit her that she was leaving for several months. She quickly did the math; early October to early February, four months. Four months? That was all the time to prepare for a musical? She guessed that was a result of the crazy director. Four months? She would live in New York City for that long. She would be away from home for all that time. That part she did not mind so much; this new apartment she lived in felt nothing like home to her anyway. She missed her old apartment, her old friends, her old life...

If this had been two years ago, she would have been lying to Francie, telling her how another bank was opening and she needed to help them set up for a few months. She would later take Will aside and tell him the truth, and he would smile, hug her, whisper in her ear how much he would miss her, and of course to be careful. And upon arriving in New York, Vaughn would whisk her away to his apartment where she just knew Francie would be jealous of their torrid activities. But no, she remembered, it wasn't Francie. It would have been Allison.

She shook herself away from that direction. That path was something she should not dwell on anymore.

After a pleasant surprise to find all the clothing and accessories she wanted had been packed into several suitcases, she quickly changed into her pajamas and collapsed into her bed. She snuggled tightly into the warmth and comfort of her blankets and took a moment to think before falling into a deep sleep. She hoped that she would receive a role in the musical that would give her close contact with Vaughn. It was hard to imagine what type of casting there would be due to that fact that Sydney did not know the story line of the musical, but with or without a plot, she imagined herself in several close situations with Vaughn and drifted off with a grin implanted on her face.

A/n: I hope I'm off to a good start and that I've interested you enough to want more. If you don't know the story of _Crazy for You_ don't worry because I'll explain it in the next chapter. And might I suggest the soundtrack while I'm at it. I love it! Okay, enough about that. Please review and give me your thoughts!


	2. I Can't Be Bothered Now

Chapter 2: I Can't Be Bothered Now

A/n: I took the _Crazy for You_ summary from http: and edited it slightly to be shorter (it's still really long :P). This chapter is mostly information, but I hope you guys still enjoy it!

_Because you see I'm dancing and I can't be bothered now..._

Sydney laughed at Weiss as she slipped her key into her new home for the next three weeks: a safe house owned by Detroit's branch of the Central Intelligence Agency designed to look part of the neighborhood, complete with fake boarded up windows and all. He struggled with several bags and was muttering about having to return to the main floor for more. How Weiss could possibly have more bags than Sydney was beyond her imagination and she rolled her eyes at him. Her eyes wandered down the hall, counting three other doors. Two other people besides Weiss and herself. And while she hoped it would be Vaughn across the hall from her, she also loathed if it were him for the chance of having to confront Lauren.

Finally she pushed the thick, oak door open and stuttered through with her three oversized bags and threw them aside in what seemed to be a large closet to her right. She jumped when the door slammed shut behind her, causing her to look up and survey her surroundings. While the bathroom to her left seemed sufficient with a bathtub, the rest of the room was nothing more than a glorified dorm room. But no windows, of course, just bright lights overhead.

She sighed, stepping forward, and plopped onto her bed in the far right corner, next to which stood a night stand and a dresser. Along the side of the room with Sydney's bed was a desk with a laptop, printer, and phone, and a miniature refrigerator, and across from that, a love seat and small table with two chairs.

Deciding that nothing exciting would magically happen as she rested on the bed, she stood and proceeded to unpack her clothes into the dresser. Once done, she turned on the laptop – a brand new iBook, she observed – and checked out the miniature fridge, which was stocked with bottles of water and a few cans of Coca Cola. She opted for a water and chugged half the bottle in a single gulp, at last realizing her thirst.

A thick manila envelope sat unnoticed on the table until now. She picked it up with her free hand and inspected it thoroughly. In the corner on the front of the envelope she found "SB" scribbled quickly and she flipped it over to open it, setting down her water. Out slid a large pile of papers, ID cards, keys, and such, but she removed the paper first.

She carried it over to the love seat, where she settled in the corner and grabbed the first sheet on top. It appeared to be a schedule of tap and voice lessons. All of Sydney's dance times were in the morning, while singing was afternoon and evening, much to her delight. Studying it further, she found that several times overlapped with other people's schedules. For instance, the first fifteen minutes of Thursday's dance would include the last fifteen minutes of Vaughn's time, and on Saturday she shared thirty minutes of Weiss's voice lessons. Her eyes widened. She would be dancing with Vaughn! As her heart rate rose initially, a knot also formed in her stomach. _He's married,_ she reminded herself. She closed her eyes. She had to stop doing this to herself; she had to stop daydreaming about something that was impossible to attain anymore. Shouldn't she be angry at Vaughn anyway? _He_ was the one who left her; had gotten married while she had merely disappeared. She shook her head. This wasn't emotion time, it was mission time. She did not want her emotions to control her again like they had yesterday. Dealing with her emotions would just have to wait, and come when their time arose.

Concluding her view at the schedule, she saw that only Vaughn, Lauren, Weiss, and herself were on the paper. Were they the only ones auditioning? She had to guess.

Setting the schedule aside, she looked at the next page: a notice that they would all be meeting today at eight PM Detroit time. She had about two hours until then. However, the meeting was naturally during when they would normally eat dinner. The CIA apparently did not want them to ease into the three hour time difference.

The notice also stated that she needed to be prepared to present her alias, which was next in the stack of papers. She read it slowly, taking it all in piece by piece.

Once landing in New York, she would be known as Sophia Kathleen Smith, age thirty-one, born December 14, 1973. Her marital status: single, and her parents names were Janet and Mark. She had no siblings. To summarize her past, Sophia was born and raised in Seattle, Washington, and had attended Western Washington University where she majored in acting and minored in dance. Ever since graduation, she had performed in her hometown theater, but later moved to New York. Her place of residency in New York would be Apartment 47 in Whitaker Apartments on 8th Street in Manhattan.

After reading through her life history, she headed back over to the table. She found her driver's license, credit cards, keys to her apartment, and a package of hair dye. She gazed at the box with a raised eyebrow, then picked up her driver's license to inspect it more carefully. Of course the hair in the picture was a shade or two lighter then Sydney's. Going back to the couch, she picked up the last paper in the stack, and gathered the others separately. The last page was the casting call. On it listed all the open parts, eighteen in total; numbers which shocked Sydney quite a bit.

She checked her watch after organizing all the papers on the table. She still had over a half hour before the meeting. And in looking at the list of open roles, she decided to find a summary of _Crazy for You_ online. She slid into the stiff computer chair and Googled in the perfect phrase, finding a summary instantly. It read:

_The musical opens at the Zangler Theatre in New York City in the 1930s during a performance of the "Zangler Follies." You meet Bobby Child, a man who yearns for show business but is stuck in the world of banking, and Bela Zangler, the owner of the theater who happens to be married but in love with Tess, a Follies Girl. Bobby auditions poorly for Zangler._

_Outside the theatre, Bobby meets Irene, his wealthy fiancé whom he doesn't want to marry, and then his mother, who insists that he go to Deadrock, Nevada to foreclose on a property. But when the women argue over Bobby, he imagines that he is dancing with the Follies Girls. When he returns to reality, he chooses Deadrock over Irene. _

_Deadrock is a has-been mining town in Nevada. The only woman in town is Polly Baker, and her father, Everett, owns the Gaiety Theatre, a beautiful theatre that hasn't been used in years. A letter arrives from New York stating that a banker named Bobby Child has been sent to foreclose on the theatre if Everett fails to meet his mortgage payments. Polly vows to do something ugly if she ever comes across this man. Bobby then staggers into town and instantly falls in love with Polly. _

_However, Lank Hawkins, who owns the saloon, wants to marry Polly and buy Everett's theatre. Inside the saloon, Polly meets Bobby for the first time, and Bobby declares his love for her. Polly seems unsure about his Eastern ways. _

_That night on the stage of the Gaiety Theatre, Bobby gets and idea: they can save the theatre by putting on a show! After Polly is persuaded to join in the plan, Bobby introduces himself: "I'm Bobby Child." Polly recognizes his name, slaps him, and leaves in a hurry. But Bobby is determined to win her heart, and he gets an idea: Bela Zangler. _

_Three days later, the glamorous Follies Girls arrive in Deadrock to the amazement of the cowboys. Along with the girls is Bobby in disguise as Zangler, complete with beard, cane and Hungarian accent. He's been sent, he says, by Bobby Child. Polly and Everett readily agree to let him put on a show to save the theatre, and everyone rushes to rehearse. Two weeks later, preparations for the show are in full swing. Although the cowboys are still disastrous performers, "Zangler" (i.e. Bobby) changes all that in the course of a single rehearsal. _

_Irene now shows up, looking for Bobby. She recognizes him and threatens to expose him to Polly if he doesn't promise to return with her to New York. When Irene leaves, "Zangler" tries to persuade Polly to give Bobby a chance; but Polly confesses that she's madly in love with "Zangler" much to Bobby's dismay. _

_The following evening, the cast is busily preparing for the show. Lank is desperate to stop it, and Irene is desperate to find Bobby, who's been hiding from her all day. When people are spotted coming from the station, the cast assembles excitedly on the street. Alas, the only arrivals are an English couple (the Fodors) who have come to write an American guide book._

_The company has now hit rock bottom, and "Zangler" is the most desolate of all. He apologizes for failing the town, but as he starts to leave, Polly explains how life in Deadrock has blossomed since he came. As despair turns to celebration, the real Zangler staggers into town and collapses on the street. In their frenzy of joy, no one sees him. _

_That night in the saloon, the town is still celebrating, and Bobby, in a rush, asks Polly to marry him when she's in love with "Zangler." He explains that he is "Zangler", the man she fell in love with. But she doesn't believe him, and as he tries to convince her, the real Zangler enters. As Polly kisses Zangler with passion, Bobby exits. When Polly leaves, Zangler explains to Tess that his wife left him and that he came to Deadrock to be with her. Suddenly she gets an idea: he, Zangler, could save the theatre! As an experienced producer, he'd know how to advertise. When Zangler refuses, Tess gets angry and leaves. Bobby, now dressed as Zangler to prove he wasn't lying, enters and both he and Zangler drink away their woes. _

_The next morning, Polly sees two Zanglers sleeping under the table and realizes that Bobby was telling her the truth. But instead of loving him for it, as Bobby expects, she's humiliated and storms angrily out of the saloon. Meanwhile, Lank is frustrated with the Fodors and Irene is frustrated with Bobby, and in their frustration they realize they are made for one another. _

_Later in the theatre, the cast has a meeting. With two weeks left on the mortgage, the issue is whether to try putting on the show again or to let the bank foreclose. As everyone bickers, the Fodors step forward and offer their own, very British philosophy. By the end of the number, Polly is no longer angry with Bobby. The issue is put to vote, and to Bobby and Polly's amazement, the decision of the company is to give up. They tried the show once and it didn't work. Why should it work a second time? _

_The company leaves and Bobby says good-bye to Polly. He's going back to New York. Polly is shocked, but too proud to admit her love for him. Bobby reflects his fond memories and leaves, leaving Polly alone. Suddenly, Zangler enters the theatre. Impressed by the cowboys, be decides to revive the show and save the theatre, all in the name of Tess. _

_Six weeks later, in New York, Bobby is trying to be a banker, but all he can think about is Polly and Deadrock. Mother, however, foreclosed on the property in Deadrock after Zangler lost the property by "wasting all his money on that theatre in Nevada" - all for Tess's sake. She gives Bobby the deed. The Follies Girls now appear in his mind and he heads back for Deadrock. _

_Back in Deadrock, the town sparkles. The saloon is now a spiffy cafe run by Lank and Irene who are happily married, and the theatre has been playing to full houses and has paid off its mortgage. However, Polly, now the star of the show, has realized how desperately she misses Bobby, and she leaves for New York to find him. After she leaves, Bobby runs in and learns that the show he prepared has saved the theatre. He realizes that at last he's accomplished something. As this sinks in, Everett and Mother see each other and fall in love. But it's only when Polly unexpectedly reappears that all is resolved. As the town looks on, Polly and Bobby run into each other's arms - and start to dance. _

Sydney read it over again, then referred back to the casting sheet. Both the parts for Polly and Bobby were open... Suddenly, without any of her control, her emotions took over in a swarm of thoughts. She knew that with Vaughn's work ethic that he would try to achieve the best part he could, which would be Bobby Child. And if Sydney worked as hard as she possibly could then perhaps she could be his Polly...

It was time to head out to the meeting, and she closed the laptop and headed into the hall, where she met Weiss leaving as well. "Hey," she greeted. "I read up on the musical."

"Me too," he replied as he walked towards her. "And I have three words for you: tap dancing cowboys."

She laughed. "Well, _I_ think the plot sounds interesting."

"Well, _I_ think yippe-ki-yay."

They walked to the elevator and Weiss pushed the button down. "So who lives on the other side of the hall as us?" she asked while they waited.

The door opened, and they both stepped on, Weiss pushing the button for the second floor. "Dixon is across from me, and Jack is across from you."

Sydney frowned. "Okay."

The remainder of their walk was silent while they each reviewed their own aliases. Weiss held the door open for her when they reached the designated meeting room and she smiled faintly at him as she passed. She took a seat in the far corner and lifted her gaze around the room. It seemed that they waited for Carrie, Marshall, and Dixon. Jack sat a seat away from Sydney scribbling furiously into a notebook, while Weiss took a seat next to the door and sat twiddling his thumbs. Across the room Lauren and Vaughn sat and talked, or flirted, as Sydney chose to observe. Her idea of being Polly to Vaughn's Bobby abruptly became absurd as she watched the two together. What had she been thinking? That she could remind Vaughn who he "really wanted" simply by acting with him? She was crazy. He was too honest and loyal a man to simply drop his wife and leave her, even if they may not be soul mates.

Vaughn smiled at his wife and allowed his eyes to wander about the room. He locked gazes with Sydney for a moment, but she darted her eyes away before she could no longer yearn for the coveted. Her eyes burnt into the table top, memorizing every flow of the grain. The wood particles waved in and out intricately, and she followed it's path, tracing it with her fingers. She couldn't rip her eyes away, not because it was mesmerizing, but because she could tell Vaughn was still staring at her.

Dixon, Carrie, and Marshall then entered the room, causing Sydney to look up when the door shut loudly behind them. Marshall jumped a little closer to Carrie at the sudden noise, his hand protectively covering her stomach. She stared at him for a moment before he chuckled lightly and whispered a quiet sorry.

Dixon wasted no time. "Everyone is going to stand and present their aliases to everyone here. I'll begin..."

Dixon was Aaron Lapeer, a security guard. He was married and had two children (Sydney recalled that Dixon's kids were going to live with him in New York once he left Detroit). Jack was Richard Charlevoix, a fifty-five year old single employee of the theater. Eric Weiss was Nicolas Chesaning, divorced with one child. He was an actor hailing from Syracuse. Marshall and Carrie were Sherman and Marie Hampton, a couple from Georgia who worked with the technical parts of the musical. And finally, Vaughn and Lauren were the actors Christopher Garth and Denise Zway, a married couple. Sydney perked up slightly upon hearing that they lived in the same apartment complex as she did.

After all the presentations, Dixon stood and explained that everyone was to grow close to their coworkers and look for anything suspicious. There would be deeper, individual missions assigned later, especially for the actors once they received their roles. Dixon adjourned the meeting by telling them that there would me more meetings throughout the rehearsal period to discuss any new intel or suspicions. "And everyone please get a good night's sleep before training starts tomorrow."

Sydney rushed out of the room before anyone could speak to her. At reaching the elevator, she desperately wished no one would catch up to her as she waited for it to descend. She hurried inside and pushed for the third floor and the close button, but just before the doors clasped an arm stuck through and they widened open.

Weiss entered. "Got out of there in a hurry," he commented.

"I couldn't take it," she replied, referring to Vaughn. "My emotions keep getting in the way. I'm just not sure if I can go through with this mission without them messing it up." The doors opened to the third floor and they stepped out slowly, taking their time as they dawdled. She felt a growing ease with Weiss when she talked with him, minimal, at first, but larger as they spoke more frequently. "How am I going to co-star with him when half the time I'm pissed off at him and the other half he's all I can think about?"

Weiss stared at her with a consoling look on his face as Sydney stuck her key into the lock on her door. "Think of this as your chance to start anew." She gazed back at him in confusion, opening her door but lingering in the frame. "You aren't Syd anymore and he's not Mike. You're Sophia and Christopher. You don't know each other. You've never met. And you don't care because he's already married. Don't you see that this is your opportunity to get over him finally?"

She hesitated. "...Yeah. Maybe." The door to their left opened and Dixon and Jack came in to the hallway, each respectably on their way to their rooms. Sydney raised her eyebrows. "See you tomorrow." Weiss nodded, and Sydney smiled briefly at Dixon and her father before slipping into her room and leaning back against the closed door. Weiss was right, she knew, this would be the best opportunity to get over him. Her new game plan would be to pretend that she was consumed in the musical, not let anything bother her as she danced and sang her heart out. She had grown tired of hoping something would happen; waiting impatiently at the sidelines for a substitution back into the game. She wanted to no longer hurt.

A/n: I know this chapter was mostly informationy but I needed it there. Please review with your feedback!


	3. Things Are Looking Up

Chapter 3: Things Are Looking Up

A/n: Okay, I have a new rule for you all to try and remember: it applies to when they are reading their lines or are singing. When you read something like this "'_La la la_'" that means they are singing, but if it's like this: "'La la la'" that means they're talking. Got it? Italics with extra quote singing; plain with extra quote reading lines.

_Bitter was my cup, but no more will I be the mourner, for I've certainly turned the corner... Oh things are looking up!_

– – – – – – –

Sleep came surprisingly easily to Sydney that night, even after the difficult decision for a getting-over-Vaughn attempt. It was a deep, dreamless sleep, and she woke feeling rested nonetheless. Hurriedly she dressed appropriately for a dance class and headed out the door, turning to the right to the end of the hall; she pushed open the door and found herself in a teacher lounge type room. There was a large, rectangular table in the center and cabinets and counters surrounded it along the walls. Upon the counters were trays of food, a toaster, and a microwave, and at the end of the counters was a large off-white refrigerator.

Eric Weiss was the only other person in the room, and he sat in the first available seat with his back to the door. He munched slowly on his cereal, what looked to be frosted flakes, and turned his head slightly at hearing the door open. "Happy Tuesday," he greeted, still chewing.

Sydney greeted him back and headed over to the counter. She inspected the choices in front of her – consisting of cereal, bagels, bread, and various fruits – and settled on toast. She popped two pieces into the toaster and turned around, leaning back on the linoleum counter to talk to Weiss. "Last night I decided that you were right," she started, immediately regretting her choice of words.

"Well, I am always right, aren't I?"

"Shut-up. I mean I decided I'd try to get over Vaughn. I really want to focus on this mission, that's exactly what I plan to do. Once we're in New York, I'll be Sophia, he'll be Chris, and we'll be complete strangers."

He lifted his bowl to slurp the milk. "That's good. I'm proud of you," he said sincerely. As he slurped up his milk, her bread finished toasting, and she proceeded to spread on strawberry jam, her favorite. "So already I'm pumped for my apartment in New York. I was bored out of my mind last night in that stupid room after the meeting."

"You could have come over and hung out with me," she countered, sitting down next to him.

"I thought about it... But I was afraid Jack would catch me or something. He's scary." Sydney laughed at him. "I'm ready for some night life, and some real furniture, and some _beer_... But of course, that's probably why my wife left me in the first place." Sydney set her toast back onto the paper plate and eyed him curiously. "Sorry, just getting into my alias."

She nodded. "Oh, right, I forgot Nicolas Chesaning was divorced. Aren't you supposed to have a kid, too? How's that going to work?"

Weiss stood with his bowl and raised his eyebrows high into his forehead. "One weekend a month I "fly to Syracuse" to visit my seven-year-old son because the ex has custody. They're really just going to drive me to some other apartment a few miles outside the city. Don't miss me too much while I'm gone."

"I'm sure I won't." She bit off the last bit of jellied toast before the black, crispy crust. She watched Weiss carry his bowl to a sink previously hidden behind the gigantic fridge. It was moments like these that gave her happiness these days; just when she and her friend could talk of nothing and still manage to have a good time. She sighed in content. "Well, I have to go my dance lesson now. I shall see you later, Mr. Chesaning."

"Adieu, Miss Smith."

She tossed her plate into the garbage as Weiss ventured through the plate of bagels, most likely in search of the cinnamon sugar kind. She got into the elevator and ascended to the fourth floor where the dance studios were located. There were two, one on each side of the hallway, and she headed into room 1A as her schedule assigned.

She opened the door and stepped inside. The floors were a polished wood of light color, and the walls that weren't mirrored were white as was the ceiling. Parts of the mirrors were covered with posters from musicals, and others with regular family photographs, which she thought was a sweet touch.

"You must be Sydney!" a cheery voice spoke from behind her. She quickly spun around and discovered a thin bald man, possibly in his twenties, wearing black pants and tight black t-shirt. "I'm Gabriel, I'll be your instructor for these three weeks," he added, protruding his hand for Sydney to shake. "Have you ever tap-danced before?"

"Yeah. I remember some basic stuff from when I was younger; I used to take classes."

"Great! Well, I guess we'll start with some more advanced moves, and then I'll start showing you the choreography on Finale." He then leaned in and whispered, "We kind of spied on the choreographer, and now we can give you agents a jump-start on learning the dances for auditions."

They worked for nearly two hours. The first hour was spent remembering old moves and learning new ones, and the second hour was spent learning the steps for the Finale of the musical.

Sydney enjoyed her time with Gabriel as he was funny and kind, but soon it was time for lunch and Sydney rushed back to her room for a quick shower before grabbing a sandwich from the empty teacher-lounge-room. All the breakfast food had seemed to disappear over that two hour course and was replaced by lunch items. Sydney guessed the CIA provided the food for them and it was brought up to their floor.

She quickly braided her wet hair and went back to the elevator to the fifth floor for her singing lessons. She walked into her assigned room and found an older woman playing absent-mindedly at the piano. She didn't seem like she was paying much attention to anything, her eyes wandering the room and her head not bobbing in tempo, but the music was phenomenal.

When she finally noticed Sydney staring at her, she abruptly stopped, catching Sydney's attention. "Well, come in, child, don't be shy." Sydney gave her a small smile and stepped forward towards to piano. The woman drew in her breath slowly and stared at Sydney's eyes for a while. "You're the one they tell me can already sing well." Sydney opened her mouth to protest, but something about the expression on her face told her not to say anything; she instead nodded sheepishly. "It's nothing to be ashamed of. Take pride in the things you do well. I am Rose, Rose Callaway."

Rose's gray hair pulled back loosely into a bun on the top of her head, a few wisps sticking out comfortably. She had deep crow's feet beside her eyes and shallow bags under her eyes. There was something about this woman that Sydney found oddly captivating, perhaps her brisk, raspy voice or the way she looked like she owned the room. But Sydney either felt completely under her control or completely terrified of her.

"Stand here," she demanded before coughing, striking a simple G chord on the piano after pointing to the music stand next to her. Sydney moved to the spot and peered through the sheets of music in front of her. She read titles like "Could You Use Me," "Someone to Watch Over Me," "I Got Rhythm," and "Naughty Baby."

Rose cleared her throat. "You are to study and practice all these pieces, are we clear? This week is voice exercises only. When I am not here you will work with Mr. Davidson, and you will obey him as you would obey me." Sydney nodded curtly, unsure of this peculiar woman in front of her.

They proceeded to warm up Sydney's voice and perform several scales. Rose seemed as impressed with Sydney's hardly off-key singing as she would be with a talking three-month-old elephant. And as Sydney gathered her music to leave, she knew she'd have a tough three weeks with Rose Callaway. But there was always hope of this Mr. Davidson.

– – – – – – –

She grew to learn that she was wrong over the three weeks: Mr. Davidson was worse. It wasn't his strict style of teaching, because he wasn't strict at all, nor was it his strong tone of voice, because he hardly spoke. He was, however, the most boring teacher Sydney could possibly have met in her life. The occasional days with Mr. Davidson were far and few, but the moment she would see his round fleshy face and his short red hair she would immediately dread the coming two hour lesson. She didn't understand how they managed to accomplish anything during their time together, seeing as Sydney practically fell asleep.

Her mornings were her favorite part of the day. Gabriel was by far her favorite of the three teachers, always happy and cheerful and dancing even when music wasn't playing. At times during their tapping he would sing along with the music always creating a smile on Sydney's face. The dancing was simply fun.

She specifically enjoyed the mornings of dance when she would walk in during Vaughn's time and see him sweating away at a difficult tap step in his black suit pants and a white undershirt. _But no_, she would remind herself as she stretched out, _I'm getting over him. He's just another actor._ Though she had to admit he looked exceptionally yummy in his undershirt.

Although she did remember one singing lesson with Mr. Davidson that was rather enjoyable. She and Weiss had shared time together and they just happened to have Mr. Boring as their instructor. They worked on the song 'Nice Work If You Can Get It' and found ways to amuse each other when they weren't singing. They had played many rounds of tic-tac-toe and several profane games of Hangman to pass the time, all of which went unnoticed by the teacher.

This morning in particular, her last day of training in Detroit, she walked slowly towards the dance studio 1A as she had every morning before for the past three weeks with the exception of Sundays. She reveled in how she would be getting her apartment in New York soon. She would be moving in tomorrow, as would Weiss in his complex. She learned at the meeting that had been held last night that Lauren and Vaughn would be moving in there today as to not cause suspicion. It would be weird if they all moved into the same complex on the same day.

She would miss her breakfasts and evenings with Weiss, she knew, a routine she had fallen into even though they didn't do much but complain about the singing instructors and check out random websites on the internet. Sydney kept mostly to herself apart from that over the course of their training. But it was part of her assignment to befriend her coworkers, and her new apartment would be decked out with more electronics, so she would be soon entertained and busy.

Right before her hand clasped around the doorknob to open the studio door, it pulled back away from her and she and Lauren Reed nearly collided. The women stood awkwardly blinking for a moment before Lauren whispered, "Excuse me," and Sydney stepped aside, her lips pursed tightly. She glared at Lauren's back as she traipsed down the hall to the elevator, finally making her way into the studio.

"That was an ugly confrontation," Gabriel noted as he spied Sydney's clenched fists and tight cheeks. He scratched his newly shaved head. "Care to share, honey?" he asked, patting the ground next to him as he stretched out.

Sydney settled down cross-legged and spilled her views on the events of the past weeks prior to training. He listened intently and showed full emotion upon hearing of her disappearance and how the man she had loved had married when she returned. She finished by telling him that she, however, no longer cared and that he was just history. She even added an arm crossing and pointed her nose into the air.

"That's the sprit! As my boyfriend always says, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em."

Sydney grinned at him, and they proceeded to work on the choreography for 'Naughty Baby.' When they sadly finished their session before lunch, he gave her a bear hug and kissed her on the cheek, exclaiming that he'd come see her in the show, that he'd miss talking with her everyday, and that she'd have to keep in touch with him.

After her usual quick shower and sandwich, she groaned as she dreadfully made her way to the fifth floor. She had a feeling in her gut that Mr. Davidson would be her final instructor, so she was genuinely surprised to find Rose pounding away at the piano. Each time Sydney walked in and was serenaded by Rose's melodies, she forgot how this woman was to the point, abrasive, and at times, downright rude. Her music would make Sydney calm and at ease constantly, drowning her in Bach, Mozart, Tchaikovsky, or her own improvisations. The spectacular perfection of her beautiful tunes left Sydney simply speechless.

Rose didn't quit after she noticed Sydney in the room this time. She kept playing, and perhaps let a minute grin escape from her lips before closing her eyes and getting lost in the piece. When she struck the final chords, shivers trickled down Sydney's legs and she couldn't help but applaud. That was when Rose snapped back to her usual self and stared at Sydney in her manner of reading, causing Sydney to stop. She stepped forward to the music stand with more confidence than usual despite the fact that they had long ago ditched the music sheets. "'I Got Rhythm,'" Rose stated in a sigh. "From the top."

Sydney stood up to her full height and quickly cleared her throat. "'_Days can be sunny, with never a sigh/_'"

"Watch that flat in there!"

"'_Don't need what money can buy/_'"

"Louder!"

"'_Birds in the trees sing their day full of song / Why shouldn't we sing along?_'"

"Slower..."

Sydney grew happy when she noticed only ten minutes left in their frustrating session. Rose, on the contrary, seemed to want to stay and work with Sydney until the wee hours of the morn.

"Pro_ject_, Sydney, pro_ject_!" she continued to demand from her song. "You're going to need to be louder when you're on stage, for goodness sake!" Sydney sighed and relaxed her back muscles. It was useless, she'd never please the almighty ruler. "They won't believe you're an actress if you don't sing like an actress."

"Yes, ma'am."

"And if you won't sing like you're an actress then why am I even bothering with you?" Sydney's face dropped. She had worked as hard as she possibly could to improve for this... this awful witch only to get yelled at! And she had such a great morning with Gabriel, she should have known Rose would ruin her day. Finally, she lifted her head and found Rose waiting expectantly. "That wasn't a rhetorical question, child."

Why was she bothering working with Sydney? Because the CIA hired her to and if she didn't she'd suffer major consequences? "Why then? Why are you bothering with me?" she asked in exasperation.

"Because you have the _talent_." Sydney blinked. _Did Rose just compliment me?_ she asked herself, quite sure she heard Rose wrong. She looked back at her inquisitively, her brow furrowed, noticing that Rose seemed serious. She had just complimented Sydney, something she had never expected from such a harsh woman. "Back in my prime I was starring in Broadway hits left and right. And do you know how I got there? I acted like I belonged there even I knew damn well I didn't. I may be a great singer, but I was born to play piano; my passion. But my point is if you don't act like a diva in Milan when you're on stage then you certainly shouldn't be up there in the first place."

Sydney stared back at her in shock. Wow. She was not expecting that at all. Rose continued despite Sydney's near cardiac arrest. "Remember that, and to watch those few accidentals in 'I Got Rhythm' and 'Embraceable You' and you should be ready for the spotlight. I believe we're done."

Sydney swallowed hard and nodded, still in awe. She stood up in a daze and slowly approached the door. But no! She couldn't just exit after that huge spiel! She turned in the doorway and watched as Rose idly gazed upon the pictures beside her along the wall. Sydney had noticed them before, but she had never thought to study them. She silently crept closer, squinting to see them in full detail, and she stopped when the piano would allow her no nearer.

The pictures were old looking, faded in slight, but otherwise well preserved. They were of an actress, it was that type of picture, but the actress was someone she vaguely recognized. Not someone that she had seen in an old movie, but someone that she had absolutely seen before... "That's you?" Sydney asked.

Rose nodded slowly, as if reminiscing. "Yes."

"And that one on the stage... That's you on Broadway?"

She smiled immediately this time. "Yes. I loved the stage, and it loved me back. But singing wasn't for me. It was the piano that called."

Sydney leaned in, amused to have a civil conversation with this woman. "And who are those other girls with you? You're cast mates?"

"No, my sisters. I'm in the middle, and my older sister, Lily, is on the left, and my younger sister, Daisy, is on the right." She sighed. "But what I wouldn't give to be back on the stage with them again." She smiled, closing her eyes, and Sydney wanted to feel her current memory. But she opened her eyes again, turning away from the picture to cough heavily. "But things change. You can't always go back to the way things used to be."

Rose promised her that she'd succeed in New York, and Sydney finally left. But it suddenly wasn't her speech about singing that she pondered, it was her last explanation of the pictures...

_"... But things change. You can't always go back to the way things used to be..."_

How well Sydney knew these words, Rose would never know. But all things aside, Sydney had a better attitude towards the mission, and she grew anxious for moving tomorrow. _New York City, here I come._

A/n: Hmm, that chapter turned out much better than I thought it would. I'm quite please with it, and I hope you are the same. Please review and tell me what you thought!


	4. Could You Use Me?

Chapter 4: Could You Use Me?

A/n: I apologize for any bad or incorrect descriptions: I've never been to New York City before, so please don't get all weird if I'm wrong.

_There's a job that I'm applying for – let me put it to you thus: it's a partnership I'm dying for – Mr. and Mrs. Us._

- - - - - -

It felt quite odd to wear such a heavy jacket in early November, but then she remembered: she was in New York, not Los Angeles. Normally, she could get away with a t-shirt during this time of year, and the bulky warmth was one of many new things. Sydney remembered to hide the weirdness of the jacket, considering Sophia was from the north and would be well adjusted already. However, it was no surprise to Sydney when a chilling wind blew through the open door of the plane and stung Sydney's cheeks as she exited.

Another new thing was Sydney's hair. She had taken a shower early this morning and dyed it; now two shades lighter than before. She dyed her eyebrows as well, wanting it to look as real as possible.

She smiled flirtatiously at the pilot as she passed him, twirling a strand of light brown hair in her fingers. It was rather fun getting into character. She used to do it more often as a double agent.

Making her way to retrieve her luggage, she commenced her transformation into Sophia. Being an actress, she definitely would not be shy, but outgoing. Probably not a great secret keeper, either. Naive, perhaps, in a new, big city like New York. She grabbed her three suitcases and headed out to the street, pretending to be cautious about hailing a taxi.

"Where to?" A husky, big-boned man of his forties sat up front in the driver's seat, eyeing her luggage. He stepped out – though seemingly reluctantly to Sydney – and helped to set her bags in the trunk. She handed him a slip of paper where she had scribbled the address down. before he sat back inside. He chewed his gum noisily. "Ah, yeah. I know where that it. My brother lives over there. Nice apartments."

Sydney cast him a nervous smile as he pulled out sharply into the street, cutting another taxi off behind him and receiving several honking horns to which he grumbled. "I'm glad to hear it. I'd hate moving here without knowing I'd get a crappy apartment."

"Oh, so you're new in town," he replied casually before turning a corner a little too late. Sydney nearly fell off the seat even with her seat belt.

"Yes, I just moved here from Seattle. I'm an actress."

"Oh, will I get to see you in any big shows? Hey, watch it, pal!" he honked at the car in front of him.

"Maybe... I don't –"

He flipped off the driver in a passing car. "Get off the road, you bastard! Sorry, what were you saying?"

She bit her lip skeptically. "Well my first audition is tomorrow, and it's a bit nerve-wracking."

"Nah, don't worry about it; you'll do fine." He slammed on his breaks. "You fucking moron! Watch the damn light changes! Huh, huh? Sorry 'bout that. Damn drivers need to learn some etiquette."

_Obviously..._ She began to survey the scenery, which was now beginning to look like the city. She began to ramble on about things she had "read" about New York as they passed through Queens. And squealing with delight upon driving on the Manhattan bridge amused the driver despite his occasional road rage. She gazed at the river below her with artificial excitement and recalled that Weiss lived in some neighborhood southwest of there on the north side of Brooklyn. She sighed. He'd be far away. Who would she talk to? Who was closest? Vaughn. And Lauren... Why were they in her same apartment complex? She hated them being so close to remind her of everything she had lost...

No, this was not the time. She had to stay happy and perky like Sophia would be now. No bad thoughts, none whatsoever.

They soon passed Chinatown, and eventually made their way to Avenue A. "Just a few more blocks – get a move on, dick! – we're almost there," he assured while honking the horn madly. Finally, he stopped in front of a large brick building overlooking a park. It looked rather dreary with all the leaves already fallen, but she was sure it was beautiful in the spring time. Except she'd only be there through winter. She sighed. "That there's Tomkin's Square. It's pretty safe, but I wouldn't wander there too much after dark. Might be unsafe for you." _That's what you think_, she mused. They each stepped out of the taxi, and Sydney stretched her arms and drew in a hefty breath of cool, crisp air. He helped her get her suitcases out and onto the sidewalk in front of the door. "My brother lives in Apartment 5 if you need anything. Name's Joe. I'll tell him to watch out for you... What'd you say your name was?"

She hadn't told him yet. "Sophia."

"Well then I'll tell him to take care of Sophia in Apartment 47. All right? Oh, by the way, I'm James." They shook hands, and then Sydney paid him. She remembered Joe and James, though she knew she wouldn't need either of their help.

She stepped into the doorway, fiddling with her keys to find the right one. She heard James yelling at someone trying to pull into the spot behind him as she shoved it into the lock and twisted it the right. Stepping inside, she noticed the stained carpet first, but everything else seemed clean enough. She headed for the elevator and pushed the button for the fourth floor. She soon found herself standing in front of Apartment 47, sighing at the fact that this would be her new home for the next months. Home. Home was the apartment she shared with Francie. Home burnt in a fire two years ago. Now she had no "home."

Earlier that day the "movers" had come to bring in her furniture. It really, of course, was local CIA agents providing her with a furnished living space. Hopefully they had arranged things for her...

Opening the door, she sighed in relief. It was a nice apartment: spacious, but not too big for one person. It had a balcony porch that looked back at the park, which seemed wasted in the coming cold weather. Looking around, all furniture seemed in place excepting a few minor things that she could fix no problem. Several boxes lay helplessly around on the floor, and upon inspection, she found they were filled with framed family pictures (doctored courtesy of Marshall and Carrie), silverware, plates, and cups. Wandering over to the hall on her right, she noticed another box in the bathroom (filled with extra toiletries) and more in the bedroom (filled with clothes – a major plus – and several high-tech items).

She set her bags in her bedroom, planning to unpack later, and walked back through the hall, then combined living room and dining room, and into the kitchen in the far left of the apartment. Checking out the fridge, she found it already stocked with enough food to last her the week. She quickly pulled out a cup from a box and poured herself a glass of water from a pitcher in the fridge and gulped it down, searching for something to eat. She decided to make a sandwich and relax the rest of the evening.

She crawled into the davenport in the living room and grabbed the remote control on the coffee table in front of her. While mindlessly watching a rerun of something she grabbed the box filled with pictures. The photos were doctored quite well. If Sydney didn't know the truth she would have never guessed that they were fake. There were ones of her when she was younger (not all of those were altered), and some with her "family" and "friends."

This was her life now, she remembered, and for the next couple of months. She sighed. And auditions started _tomorrow_...

- - - - - -

She awoke before the sun had risen that next morning, changing into a professional looking outfit for the singing portion of the auditions. She knew if she didn't sing well then she would be immediately cut, and the CIA would be an agent short for this mission. She refused to let that happen.

She cautiously stepped into the subway, eyeing a free silver pole in its middle before grabbing on as the train jerked in motion. Pretending to study the subway system map for her stop, she began to think about the importance of today. Singing, acting, then dancing. That was the order of the audition days; not the order Sydney would have chosen at all. She felt most comfortable with acting; it was how she used to live every day. Her lies. Was it any different now? No. She was merely acting as an actress. A double actress, if you will. She chuckled internally as the train rounded a bend, causing several unsuspecting passengers to stumble, including Sydney who had "accidentally" loosened her grip from the bar. The once double agent was now a double actress.

Her second most comfortable would be dancing. Since Gabriel had already taught her most of the steps she would have little difficulty "learning" any of the moves. But the hardest thing, what she knew she'd have the most trouble with was the singing portion. Rose Callaway had pushed her limit excessively, but was she ready? Rose had told her so with confidence.

But Sydney still worried...

What if she bombed the audition? What if she suddenly became horribly sharp, or forgot to let loose her vibrato? What if she got cut? What would the CIA use her for then? What would Vaughn think of her?

_Whoa_, she stopped herself as the subway came to a jolting stop. She hurried out the doors and scrambled through the station in search of her door. _Where did that Vaughn thing come from?_ While she told herself it was simply a random question, part of her knew she still thought of Vaughn constantly in the back of her mind despite her efforts to quit thinking about him. He haunted her every thought, whether she wanted to admit it or not, and she still secretly yearned he would take her back.

But she had to stop thinking that way, not because she wanted to, but because she _had_ to. It boggled her brain to ponder; how could something so simple be so complicated? She had loved him, and was pretty sure he had loved her. She disappeared, and he moved on, lacking the faith or patience to wait for her. Lacking something. She wished she knew.

She wanted to be angry with him, she wanted to yell at him and kick and scream and cry, cry so hard, cry the second Niagara Falls, but she would not. She would never. _Why is that?_ she asked herself mockingly. And that was because deep down, she knew she would never stop loving him; he would forever haunt her thoughts; she'd still spend hours dreaming of ways he would come back to her; and she would mentally brutalize herself for letting her hurt this much for so long...

She had been walking through the city for how long now? She was on the west side now. When did that happen? There was Ground Zero if she ventured a few blocks farther. But no. She would stop and gingerly open the double doors near a small alley on Broadway. This was the theater. This was Scott Theater; where her destiny awaited.

She saw a few people walking ahead of her, and she followed them hopefully. Looking around, the foyer was a grand marble floor with red velvet hangings draped over the walls. The ticket booths had musical posters plastered to the walls. She found the stairs to the balcony, but turned into a separate hallway far from that. She soon found herself in a waiting room filled with other young aspiring actors. She spotted Weiss reading over a script along the far wall, but pretended just to be observing the people. There were fewer people here than she expected; good.

Writing her name down on a sign-in sheet at a table, she grabbed her number and a script and sat down into an empty chair. She, too, read over the script. After a few scenes, a door close to where Weiss was sitting opened, and a young man with straight black hair and black glasses stepped out with a clipboard. "Number sixteen?" he asked.

It turned out to be Weiss. She buried herself in the script again before she could catch his gaze and flash him a smile... She couldn't know him. He was gone between ten or fifteen minutes before number seventeen was called in, and since Sydney was number twenty-four she knew she would have a while.

A few other people arrived without Sydney noticing. But the shortly after number twenty was called, Vaughn and Lauren entered the room and made their way to the table to sign-in; Lauren thirty and Vaughn thirty-one. They sat down in two empty seats directly behind Sydney, causing her to be slightly agitated.

The silence between them was tense, although most likely unnoticed by the couple and surrounding people. However, Sydney felt suffocated by it; a noose strung around each of their throats that tightened with each breath. She envied how they got to know each other already, how they're aliases were married.

Not a moment too soon Sydney's number was called, and she happily rose from her chair, leaving Vaughn and British Barbie behind her (she just remembered that nickname, and laughed coldly to herself). The black haired man led her to a back room, where he left her outside the door and told her the instructions. "Tell them your name and audition number, and they'll have you sing a little. When you're done they'll tell you whether or not to return for tomorrow's auditions."

She nodded, and nervously entered the room. She smiled warmly at director and other such people sitting at a table, strutting into the room like she owned it; like she was Rose about to belt out a ballad on Broadway. "I'm Sophia Smith, number twenty-four," she stated with faux confidence and charisma.

"Good morning," the director greeted while one of his colleagues scribbled down Sydney's name. His name was Damien Bruggman, she recalled, and he had a very laid back atmosphere about him. The way he sat, the way his graying hair wasn't combed to look anything particular, the way the expression on his face gave an "I don't care" kind of impression. Sydney could tell he had vision, though. He had that artistic view of life that only special people were gifted with. She thought she might like him. "Why don't you sing 'I Got Rhythm?'" he asked casually, pulling the song off the top of his head.

Sydney nodded at the pianist to begin an intro. She remembered Rose's words. Watch that note... "'_Days can be sunny, with never a sigh / don't need what money can buy_/'" She increased her volume, hearing Rose hound her in the back of her mind. "'_Birds in the trees, sing their day full of song / Why shouldn't we sing along/ I'm chipper all the day / happy with my lot / How did I get that way/ Look at what I've got.../'_" A small smile crept on he face and she allowed herself to be consumed by the music. "_'I got rhythm / I got music / I got my man / who could ask for anything more?'_"

She completed the song with a grin, proud of hitting every note perfectly. She expected Damien Bruggman to request another song, but instead he said, "Great. We'll see you tomorrow at nine AM. Study Act I, Scene 3, and Act II, Scene 1."

She quickly thanked him and exited out the back door, finding herself in that side alley. She let out a huge sigh of relief; the worst was over.

- - - - - -

All four of the agents had passed through the first day of auditions, so had about forty of sixty auditions. The next day they recited lines with one another, and Sydney even got to do a scene with Weiss (though they each hid their excitement). She anticipated watching Vaughn and Lauren perform, wanting to wish that Lauren was horrible and would be cut. She turned out to be fairly decent, as any CIA officer would. But Vaughn, however, was purely amazing. His emotions seemed so pure and realistic that she actually believe he was Bobby, Zangler, Wyatt, or whoever he portrayed for that scene. She hoped she was the same way.

Again, all four agents proceeded to the third and final audition of dance with around twenty-five of the remaining auditioners. There were eighteen spots open, so more than ten of them would have disappointment. The four agents were well prepared for this round of auditions due to their three week training in Detroit. Gabriel and other instructors taught them well, so when it came time for them to learn the steps for Finale, they did not have to work hard at all.

The director decided that he would call the chosen eighteen that evening, and so Sydney sat eagerly by the phone as she picked at her dinner. She with watched television in a preoccupied manner, when suddenly the phone rang.

It didn't finish its first full ring before she answered. "Hello?"

"I'm Moose! The cowboy!" It was Weiss. She remembered on the second day of auditions where Nicholas Chesaning and Sophia Smith cordially introduced themselves and became fast friends. They exchanged phone numbers. Now Sydney and Weiss could talk freely. "Have they called you yet?"

"Not yet," Sydney sighed. She had desperately hoped it was Damien Bruggman telling her she was Polly, and Christopher Garth would be her Bobby. How unrealistic would that be? Ha! She knew she would settle for a showgirl, even a brief appearance in the Ensemble. "Have you talked to Vaughn or Lauren?"

"No, but I think I'll call them after this." Nicholas Chesaning met many people that particular morning... "But I'm a cowboy! How cool is that? And not just any cowboy, but one of the prominent ones! Syd, are you even listening to me?"

"What? Oh, sorry. That's great." She was extremely happy for Weiss, but had gotten distracted on the mention of Vaughn and Lauren. It was a fact she was slowly getting used to. It would happen at every mention for a long time, she was sure. "Does Dixon know?"

"Yeah. He's holding a meeting for us after the cast meeting on Monday. And we're getting our long term assignments then." She heard him breathing into the phone. "Okay, well I better shut-up and let the director call you. I'd feel bad if I was the reason you missed the casting call."

"No you wouldn't."

"You're right, I wouldn't. Good night."

"Good night." She hung up quickly in hopes that the phone would instantly ring. Alas, it didn't.

A television sitcom passed before the phone rang again. "Hello?" she answered in excitement.

"Hey, Syd, it's Dixon." She frowned, muting the TV. "Have you gotten called yet?"

"No, not yet." She bit her lip. What if she really didn't get a part? What if something had gone horribly wrong that she failed to notice. What if she –

"Weiss is a cowboy, Lauren is Irene Roth, and Vaughn is Bobby Child. Call me back when you find out."

She agreed, and the bid their goodbyes. Vaughn was Bobby! She knew he had the drive to get that role. And Lauren was Irene, the annoying fiancé. Interesting. Quite interesting...

_Ring!_

Now if Sydney could only join the cast.

_Ring!_

She truly wanted to put in the long hours of rehearsal, even if only for a tiny part, and she was willing to put in the work and the effort...

_Ring!_

Her eyes snapped open upon finally hearing the phone. "Hello?" she answered skeptically. Who would it be this time, her father?

"Hi, Miss Smith, this is Damien Bruggman."

Her vocal chords froze and her heart skipped a beat. "Hi." Sophia would be a case of nerves too, right?

"I was just letting you know that the part of Polly Baker is yours, if you'd like it."

Of course, a silly showgirl. Wait! Polly Baker! The lead role! Opposite none other than Vaughn! "Yes!" she exclaimed. "I... Yes!"

He laughed. "Good. The cast meeting is Monday night at seven, and rehearsals start the next morning. See you then, Sophia."

"Bye."

Polly Baker, Polly Baker, Polly Baker! She was the leading girl! How proud Rose would be of her right now. She quickly called Dixon and told him of the news. She then changed into her pajamas and plopped into bed.

Her head was spinning; her limbs were lead, and spine tingled with delight. She was ecstatic and excited, yet simultaneously worried and unsure. Vaughn was her main co-star. She get to work – _have_ to work – all the time with him. They'd sing together, dance together, and there would be kisses...

And there was precisely the uncertainty: the kisses and closeness. Could they stand being together again, or would their new paths draw them apart? His alias was married too, and to their co-star. How would that work? Wouldn't she be jealous? True, it would only be a stage kiss, but a kiss would be a kiss, regardless of titles.

Confusion swirled about her brain, with the occasional burst of thought that this would work. It would work. It would have to. She wanted this partnership more than anything. And all she had to do was remember: Sophia Smith and Christopher Garth, two complete strangers.

A/n: There we go, Chapter 4. I never really liked it all that much, but it's growing on me. Please tell me what you think and review. I really want to know your views on all this. Next chapter preview: the cast meeting, the agent meeting, and rehearsals. And some other stuff, obviously. Thanks for reading this chapter!


	5. Girls Enter Nevada

Chapter 5: Girls Enter Nevada

A/n:Thanks a bunch for you reviews! Sorry I haven't updated in a while, I've been bust with softball and I just haven't had a lot of time. Anyway, I'll try to update sometime next week, and… Enjoy!

_In town we used to fret away until we made our getaway out here where there's no doubt that men are men– where men are men! We don't care if we don't go west again._

– – – – – – –

Monday night eventually sprung up upon Sydney and she found herself running late as she ran to catch the subway. Luckily, she made it, but had to catch her breath as she gripped the metal pole and firmly planted her feet. She still tottered slightly as its jolts bounced her from left to right, yet she managed to stay upright.

The Scott Theater loomed in front of her as she briskly navigated around other New Yorkers and a few lost tourists. She hurriedly opened the door and hurled herself inside. Inhaling deeply at the welcoming smell of the foyer, she briefly paused as she spied her very own father as a janitor cleaning the windows outside in the ticket booths. Snickering internally, she discovered papers on the walls indicating directions of which to find the cast meeting.

Sydney followed the trail down a few short hallways before coming upon a security guard next to the door, his face buried in his clipboard. He heard her approaching and lowered the board, and she was delighted to find Dixon. His white plastic name tag read "Aaron L" and stood out prominently against the blue of his shirt.

Dixon looked down his nose at her as if he'd never seen her before. "Name?" he asked blandly.

"Sophia Smith," she answered, pretending to be annoyed.

He scanned the list of names, flipping to the second page. "Go on in," he finally replied, stepping aside and casting her a quick smile. Sydney couldn't help but brush against him as she passed.

Upon entering the large room, she initially noticed the two groups of people forming, each on one side of the room. She recognized everyone from the left side of the room from auditions, including Weiss, Vaughn, and Lauren. Weiss sat talking at one of the round tables scattered around the room, and Vaughn and Lauren chatted with others along the table set up with food.

Weiss spotted her by the door. "Hey, Sophia, over here," he shouted, beckoning her to his table.

She smiled and traversed around talking groups to his table. "Hi, Nick," she greeted him, sitting down at the free seat to his right. She turned her attention to the woman and man also seated at the table. "I'm Sophia Smith." She held her hand out for them to shake.

The woman shook her hand first. "Hi, I'm Becca Green," said the woman. She had shoulder length strawberry blonde hair and light freckles sprinkled across her nose.

"I'm Kevin Obbink," the man said next. He looked to be about Dixon's age, his hair beginning to gray. "I'll be Wyatt in the musical, and Becca's Patsy."

"Who are you?" Becca asked with curiosity.

"Oh me? I'm Polly."

"You're Polly?" she exclaimed. "We've all been trying to figure it out for so long! Congratulations."

Sydney tried to blush and she added her thanks before the room went eerily silent. Everyone turned their attention to the front of the room where Director Damien Bruggman stood. "Welcome, welcome everyone!" he began, smiling as he surveyed the people in the room. The people standing scrambled to find a seat. "I decided to call this cast meeting in order to introduce the original cast to the newly added cast."

Sydney looked to the other side of the room: the original cast. She tilted her head to the side as he named off each person and their character. He started with the original minor cowboy and Follies girl parts before the major parts. "Of course, we cannot forget Desmond Tamas as Bela Zangler." The actor stood up, acknowledging his introduction, and immediately Sydney raised her eyebrows. He was rather attractive, with wavy dark brown hair and twinkling blue eyes. He stood tall and casually against the table as Damien Bruggman told a short funny story about him. Desmond grinned as a light blush covered his cheeks.

He sat down as the director announced another. "Kerri Jenison will play Tess." The woman stood up as he spoke more about her. She watched him modestly and occasionally looked to the ground. Kerri had long, straight black hair and sleek skin. Sydney guessed she was a few years younger than herself and at least a few inches shorter.

Damien Bruggman also introduced an older gentleman named James Jones who would play Everett, Polly's father, Patricia Bernard who would play Bobby's mother, and Xavier Wojowski as Eugene Fodor.

Then he got to the new cast. He began with excitement as he named off the new showgirls, including Becca Green as she stood and smiled for the part of Patsy. Weiss and Lauren were introduced early on as Moose and Irene. Finally everyone had been announced except for Sydney and Vaughn. She noticed out of the corner of her eye that Vaughn had shot her a darting glance.

"We have a spectacular addition as Polly Baker, and I'm pleased to introduce Miss Sophia Smith to the rest of the cast." Sydney contained a large smiled as she stood and nodded at the group before her. Damien Bruggman explained how he thought she was better than his original choice from the first casting call, a feat she was quite impressed by.

"And last but most certainly not least, we have Christopher Garth as Bobby Child." Vaughn stood and received a mild applause at which he chuckled. Sydney heard whispers arise about his good looks.

The director went on to introduce his assistants and crew, which included Carrie and Marshall. After the long introductions were completed, he encouraged everyone to stay and mingle and eat some of the provided food. "And please don't forget to pick up a rehearsal schedule on the way out. And for those of you who disposed of your scripts after what you thought was a bad audition, _Desmond_, scripts will be available shortly."

Hearty chortles echoed around the room and someone playfully hit Desmond on his shoulder. He simply smirked and shrugged.

Sydney talked with Weiss, Becca, and Kevin for a while longer, as did most other cast members. Eventually everyone filed out, and Sydney wandered out after about half the cast had dispersed.

Normally she would have headed straight back to her apartment, but now she had a CIA meeting. Following instructions she had received earlier, she walked in the usual direction of the subway station, looped around the block a few times to make sure no one was following her, and swiftly made it back to the alley next to the theater. She pushed through the back door and proceeded down the hall, pondering Damien Bruggman's behavior. He seemed lively and happy, could he possibly have gone psycho and fired half of his cast? Bipolar, indeed. She shook her head to herself and entered the second room on the left.

Inside she found she was the last of the agents to arrive. Dixon started in as soon as she took her seat. He first declared that as a security guard, he took the necessary precautions to make sure their meeting would be kept secret and free of intruders. "And I want to congratulate our agents on their roles," he added with a smile, issuing a small applause. Sydney smiled back and glanced at the Weiss, Lauren, and Vaughn. Vaughn managed to lock eyes with her for a millisecond.

Dixon continued. "During the cast meeting, I was commanded to post signs on the dressing rooms for the new cast. I planted each of your rooms strategically to your individual assignments. Sydney; yours is by the actresses portraying Tess and Patsy. Vaughn, you are around the corner next to Zangler and Everett. Lauren, you are by the Follies girls, and Weiss, you're by the other cowboys.

"All of you are to develop close relationships with those around you. Watch for any suspicious behavior. Eventually, we'll be planting bugs into their rooms, and possibly cameras. But for now, establish the relationships. Marshall and Carrie are in charge of the needed technology, and Jack and I will observe and eavesdrop. Any questions?" No one raised a hand. "Very well. Rehearsals start tomorrow. Good night."

– – – – – – –

_Beep beep beep beep..._

Sydney groaned as she slapped the snooze button on her alarm clock and rolled over onto her side. The gray light from her window streamed in through the blinds, and she covered her head with her green comforter. How could it be six o'clock already? It was just eleven PM a moment ago. Before she knew it, her alarm sounded again and she reluctantly sat up and leaned against her headboard.

What would today have in store for her? She'd already memorized the script; she'd done so long ago. Acting would be no problem. Dancing... She'd have to pretend to not already know the steps; naturally Sophia was a fast learner and would take to it like a fish in water. Her only worry turned to her voice, a good singing day, she hoped. _A good singing season_, she bitterly thought.

And the unvoiced worry remained silent in her. She refused to admit it, even inwardly. The worry itched her brain constantly, teasing her until satisfied; the image of a man whose name sprang to her tongue: Vaughn. Her only true fear of the mission. Why was this still a problem? Couldn't she just get the hell over him? Or could he not leave his wife and return...

Fifteen minutes passed. She tightly squeezed her eyes shut and spun her body to the floor, cringing at the icy touch of the wood to her bare feet. She hobbled to the bathroom as her toes crept back into the balls of her feet, and found comfort in the scruffy bathroom rug. She quickly showered and dressed, then poured herself a bowl of cereal.

The monotonous crunch of cereal melded into the grind of metal to metal on the rickety subway. It came to a sharp stop, and she proudly maintained her balance. Hopping out the door, she walked briskly to the Scott Theater while condemning the cold November air. She envied those in Los Angeles basking in the warmth as she watched herself exhale a white cloud.

Gratefully, she heaved herself into the theater foyer and unbuttoned her jacket. She needed a heavier coat; that was the last time she was under dressing in this weather. She absorbed the new warmth and wandered through several halls in search of her dressing room. She found Vaughn's, then turned the next hallway to the right and found hers.

It was about the size of the room in Detroit. No, maybe smaller. A make-up counter took up the majority of the space, followed by a crammed couch and table, and the closet and bathroom doors. A schedule on the side table indicated Sydney had to be around most of the time, though she did have a fair amount of breaks including today.

Tossing her winter gear on the couch, she marched briskly into the hallway and to the meeting room they had previously gathered in a day earlier. She took a seat at an empty table and promptly pulled out her script, pretending to be studying it as she gazed around the room. Weiss was already humoring some of the cowboys, not to mention a handful of follies girl around his table. Sydney returned to her script and buried her nose in Act Two, Scene Three.

Soon feeling a presence beside her, she lowered her booklet expecting to greet a visiting Weiss. Rather surprisingly, she found Desmond Tamas seated there.

"Sophia Smith?" he asked with sincerity. Sydney nodded and offered him a warm smile. "Hi, I'm Desmond. I don't believe we've properly met."

He held out his hand over the script, and Sydney dropped the papers and took his in, shaking it firmly for a moment. His semi-curly brown hair reminded her of Danny, and his deep blue eyes stood out against his face.

"It's nice to meet you," Sydney finally added, wracking her brain for something to say to this man.

He smiled; she noticed its charming tenure. "I think this morning we'll be doing a read thorough of the script, then actual work starts." He raised his eyebrows, showing his lack of thrill for rehearsals.

Sydney opened her mouth to retort playfully when in stormed Damien Bruggman, a steaming styrofoam cup of coffee in his hand. "People, people! Silence! Let's begin. Act One, Scene One... Action!"

Immediately the room went silent, and after a moment, a young voice shouted, "'Shoulders back! Heads High! One last time!'" After a pause, "'Patsy, where's Bobby? He should have been here two hours ago!'"

"'I know!'" exclaimed another voice that was quite squeaky and high pitched. "'I saw him yesterday, and he was all excited about the audition for Mr. Zangler.'"

– – – – – – –

After what seemed like forever, the read-through was complete. Sydney had fun sitting with Desmond and making secret comments with him about other characters. Unfortunately for Desmond, he had rehearsal right after the reading while Sydney had a break. She hurried back hungrily to her dressing room only to realize... She had no food!

She ravaged all through its miniscule entirety before slumping onto the couch in ravenous defeat. How could they not supply her with food? Was there some cafeteria she didn't know about, or did she have to go out and find a restaurant?

Just then someone knocked on her door. She popped up to answer it, and delightedly found a tan girl with pin straight black hair and equally sable eyes of her mid to late twenties standing before her. Sydney recognized her as the actress portraying Tess. "Hi, sorry, do you mind if I use your bathroom? The janitor said mine's broken and it won't be fixed for at least a week."

Her voice familiarized to the opening voice of this morning's reading. Sydney stepped aside. "Go ahead."

She looked at Sydney as if she had performed a miracle. "Thank you!" she said with her eyes wide, scampering around the squished furniture to the bathroom.

Sydney chuckled at the girl plopped back onto the couch. She decided her dressing room needed much decorating, and magazines and such to keep her entertained during breaks. Soon the girl returned with a look of relief on her face. "Thanks so much," she reiterated. "Oh, by the way, I'm Kerri."

"Sophia."

"You're the new Polly, right?" Sydney nodded. "I was so worried I was going to be cut when Mr. Bruggman went crazy last time. I was sure I was a goner with my age and all..."

"Wait, how old are you?"

She bit her lip. "Twenty-one. They almost didn't cast me."

Twenty-one? Wow, Sydney thought, this girl was over ten years younger than her and already in an off-Broadway show in New York City. She must be supremely talented. "So where are you from?"

"New Jersey, but I've been going to college here. How about you?"

"I'm from Seattle."

Sydney had planned to continue with some more about Seattle, but Kerri seemed to have more questions than expected. "So do you have a boyfriend there? Or here?"

"Oh, I…" Sydney stopped herself. Instinctively she would have said yes, and he's the most wonderful man in the world, but her harsh memories reminded her that no, there was no boyfriend. "We… kind of broke up…" she settled on, preparing a story in her head.

Kerri's eyes widened, very involved in this false gossip. "I'm so sorry! What was his name? What happened?"

Sydney refrained from laughing at her new friend (as it seemed she was). "Michael… He lives back in Seattle. We met in college, and then I went to New York for two years to pursue my career. I thought nothing between us had changed, I mean, it felt to me like no time had passed," Sydney lied. She paused briefly. This story had several similarities to real life; how ironic. "I came back home though… He was married."

"No way!"

"Yes. I couldn't stay at home anymore, I had to get back to New York. And well, here I am."

Kerri smirked. "Forget this Michael guy," she contorted with much disrespect for Michael; for _Vaughn_. "No one in New York stays single for long. And I mean, there is plenty of eye-candy around here, if you know what I mean…"

Sydney leaned in towards her. "I know what you mean." She darted her eyes quickly to the closed door, reassuring it was… closed. "What do you know about Desmond Tamas?" she asked quietly.

Kerri's smirk deepened to a mischievous smile. "What do _you_ know about him?" she replied with a playful air.

"I think he's attractive…" she trailed. _Wait_, she paused, _I do? No, no. I think Vaughn is attractive. I want Vaughn. Not… Desmond?_ A silent and heart attack occurred in Sydney's body at that moment. How could she possibly have just admitted that? In particular, it wasn't the admitting that shocked her, but that she truly felt what she had said. Sydney Bristow found Desmond Tamas attractive. Sydney noticed the look on Kerri's face, recognizing it as one of Francie's many faces. "No!" Sydney answered right away before Kerri got a chance to speak.

"Oh, come on, you should go for him then."

"No, I can't," Sydney said truthfully, "I'm still hung up on Michael."

"All the more reason to go for Desmond. He can be the hot rebound guy."

She laughed at her youthful naivety. "It just doesn't work that way."

The young actress appeared to ignore her, jumping onto a new subject. "Oh! You know who else is cute is that guy playing Bobby! I think his name is Chris Garth…"

Sydney's cheeks darkened to a pink, though she doubted Kerri noticed. Another mention of Vaughn sent her heart aflutter. "But he's married," she pointed out, more briskly than she intended.

"Right, to that British woman. How's that going to work out? She's Irene."

"At the auditions she spoke in an American accent for it."

"Oh. Well, too bad he's married," she concluded in disappointment, "because he's one _fine_ piece of man around here."

Sydney chuckled. Indeed, Kerri was her friend. She knew there would never be a dull moment with her around.

– – – – – – –

After the first week of rehearsals, Dixon caught up with each of the agents. He pulled them into the usual back meeting room and inquired of any early suspicions. While Weiss and Lauren had been observing the minor characters' behaviors, Sydney and Vaughn watched the more major characters. Weiss and Lauren were able to name several actors and actresses, however Sydney and Vaughn felt no one yet worked for Omega.

Sydney and Vaughn actually had a civil conversation about it, earlier. She recalled how they had found themselves alone prior that week. Vaughn had told her that Marshall planned on making microphones for them to plant into dressing rooms of Desmond, Kerri, Becca, and others, however Carrie forced him to go baby supply shopping and he had to time. Sydney felt awkward as he delivered the news, as trivial as it was. Something about their proximity unnerved her, or perhaps simply because of their solitude.

"I apologize for Marshall not having the microphones ready," Dixon announced, knocking Sydney from her reverie. He concluded the meeting by urging them to get closer to their co-stars, eager for more information.

By the next week, Marshall had the microphones ready to plant, and Sydney and Vaughn covertly did so. Over the next weeks through rehearsals, all four agents could narrow down their suspects. Sydney's growing bond with Kerri, plus input from recorded information led her to believe Kerri was involved in no way. Vaughn had a growing friendship with Desmond as well, and his and Sydney's flirting expanded. Both were suspicious of him, however.

Unbeknownst to Vaughn, Dixon exhorted Sydney to get even closer to Desmond. So she began dating him reluctantly. She hated to admit it, but she did feel something for him. Nothing compared to what she felt for Vaughn, but still, something. But what Sydney noticed was that one thing existed in her every thought while with Desmond; Vaughn. His name wanted to roll off her tongue, his image yearned to be stained into her eyes, his touch, she knew, would send her over the edge. But if she hadn't been so confused with her own feelings, she would have noticed the jealous glint in Vaughn's eyes when he saw Sydney and Desmond together.

A/n: dun Dun DUN! Um. Not really. Hehe. I just felt like saying that. Long chapter, there. I think you all will immensely enjoy the next chapter. But you won't get it until you review (please)!


	6. Someone to Watch Over Me

Chapter 6: Someone to Watch Over Me

A/n: Thanks for your reviews! I'm glad your liking this so far. Now for chapter six, one of my faves! Sorry I haven't updated this in a while, I kind of forgot. Hehe? I'll post chapter seven soon. All of those who have wanted more S/V, here it is. Enjoy!

There's a somebody I'm longing to see. I hope that he turns out to be someone who'll watch over me.

– – – – – – –

Rehearsals continued to roll through the month of November at a sluggish pace. Sydney continued to date Desmond Tamas, though as her feelings for him grew so did her suspicions of his involvement with Omega. Among new rumors, though, it was noted that Becca Green often disappeared between scenes and during breaks. Jack and Dixon kept a closer monitor of the recordings from her dressing room, yet found nothing of use.

It was the Wednesday before Thanksgiving weekend when Dixon called an emergency meeting for all agents. Sydney was one of the first to arrive in their hidden meeting room, as was Eric Weiss. He sat down next to her, cheeks red and breathing heavily.

"It's snowing," he declared before glancing around the nearly empty room. "We have, like three inches out there already."

"It's not even winter yet."

"Try telling that to mother nature." He slid back in his seat. "So how are things?"

What he really meant, Sydney knew, was how are you and Desmond? She sighed, playing with a lock of her freshly re-dyed hair. "All right, I suppose. What are you doing this weekend?"

She gave him a glare that led him to believe she would not stay on the previous subject. "I'm going to my other apartment because Nicolas is visiting his seven-year-old son. Wait, make that eight-year-old. I forgot, he had a birthday last week."

"Gee, what a great father you are."

"I know."

It took one cough from Dixon to get Weiss to stop talking as others filed into the room. Sydney sat back eagerly waiting for her father to arrive; he was the only one left. Observing the others, she noticed she was the only patient person. Everyone was dying to know what the meeting was called for, yet Dixon refused to begin until everyone was in attendance.

Dixon drummed his fingers against the table, his eyes locked deeply in thought. Sydney could tell exactly what he was thinking; she was sure he wished he made Jack be an actor so he would get out of work faster and into the meeting. She pondered this further. What if Jack were an actor as well? She internally cringed. Jack Bristow; singing and dancing? Never. Dixon must be really desperate for the meeting to start is he was thinking about _that_.

Though Sydney did have to admit an emergency meeting was rather peculiar. Something major must have finally happened. Sydney had assumed long ago that Dixon's urgency for the actors to push closer to everyone was a result of no new intel. But now, what on earth could be so important?

The door flung open and in walked Jack Bristow, fresh out of his janitor clothes. Sydney faintly smelled the odor of ammonia.

"I apologize for my tardiness," he said as he took the remaining seat.

Dixon shrugged. "We can't punish you for doing your job." He replied rather nonchalantly, but he looked clearly irked for having to wait. Everyone's attention turned to Dixon. "I've just received intel from Los Angeles that indicates that Viktor Yudin is dead." Gasps, comments, and questions arose from nearly everyone, but Dixon held up his hands to silence them. "A team from Chicago found his location, but upon arrival they only found his dead body. It has been confirmed that he was indeed the White Russian. Now it is especially imperative to watch your peers for any suspicious activity due to this news."

Sydney realized that over Thanksgiving, Desmond was visiting his parents, Kerri was going back to New Jersey to be with her family, and Becca was probably who knows where. Any snooping around would have to wait until Monday.

She shook herself. Who cared about the others… Viktor Yudin was dead! The leader of Omega was _dead_. That was huge intel to receive at this time. With Yudin dead, the organization would crumble and its members would be easy to locate.

Dixon adjourned the meeting despite many questions. The agents filed out in a mild daze from the news. Jack caught Sydney's arm just as she was leaving. "We need to talk," he muttered, pulling her into another empty room.

It was dark inside; Sydney could hardly see his face. "What, Dad?"

He remained silent for a moment, studying her querying face. "I want you to be careful around Desmond from now on…"

"He's gone for the weekend–"

"Sydney, if he is part of Omega, then he could cause you serious harm. Promise me you'll be careful."

"What happened to me during those two years?"

"Promise me!" he demanded.

She paused, slightly confused of his intentions. "I promise."

He stared at her, lips pursed, breathing heavily. "Wait two minutes before you leave." Darting around, he marched out of the room, leaving her alone in the darkness.

And finally, her past circled back to the future. It had something to do with Sydney; it had this whole time. But Jack had been in prison. Did he just assume the worst, or did he actually know something?

These thoughts captured her attention throughout her entire journey home. She was completely torn in thought; had her father truly been warning her or just looking out for her?

She walked through her apartment door, threw of her heavy coat, coat, and gloves, and scurried to the couch. She tossed her shoes across the floor and curled into a ball, wrapping her arms around her knees. There was no one there to comfort her, no one there to hold her as she cried.

All she wanted was Vaughn, Will, Francie, none of which were capable of helping her in any way. Will and Francie were dead, and Vaughn may as well have been. And then a thought occurred to her: this was her first Thanksgiving without Francie and Will; her first Thanksgiving alone.

Tears welled in her eyes and silently began to spill as she stared out the window into the gray sky. It was snowing again; the white trim lined the railing around her balcony porch. She sniffled as she unfurled her legs and edged towards the sliding door, approaching her weak reflection in the glass. She watched as tears trickled down her cheek.

Closing her eyes, she gulped down the pain, and opened her eyes to watch the snow fall to the ground. Her eyes followed one flake at a time; its fluttering forward and back, its swirling in the wind, until it disappeared among the growing accumulation on the ground. Pressing her forehead to the glass, she watched the two people in the park. They were the only two; a mother and young son. She showed him how to make a ball with the snow and roll it along the ground for it to get larger and larger, until there were three balls stacked on top of each other.

She watched as the boy found two sticks and he shoved them into the sides for two lanky arms. His mother cleared away the snow around a tree, returning with several rocks for the eyes, nose, and mouth. Finally, she embraced her son, lifting him up into her arms as they stood back and studied their masterpiece.

Sydney stepped back herself, wiping her eyes with her thumb. A single trail of water dripped down the glass, obstructing the view behind it. She brought her hand forward, and with an upward motion, she wiped away the water, bringing a smile to her lips as she saw the pair making snow angels.

A knock on the door caused her to turn abruptly from the picturesque scene. She used the side of her hand to wipe away any remaining tears and proceeded to squint through the eyepiece. Her mouth half opened upon seeing the figure standing outside her door.

She unlocked it in a rampage, but creaked open the door slowly. "Chris, what are you doing here?" she asked, remembering to use his alias.

"Do you mind if I come in?"

She shook her head and opened the door wider, furrowing her brow as she stepped aside for him. She noticed the distraught expression on his face as he glimpsed around her apartment. "Vaughn?" she asked after closing the door and securing the locks.

"We had a fight."

"Oh." She wanted to ask him what about, yet she couldn't force herself to pry. She remained leaning against the door as he sauntered to her couch. The silence in her head was pounding, and she could not stand it any longer. "What happened?"

He heaved a sigh that sounded like a light chuckle. "I don't know, we've been arguing a lot lately. Over anything, everything. This time it was… you." Sydney's heart skipped a beat. She tip-toed toward the couch, taking a seat on the end, as far away as she could; holding herself back from her need to hold him. "I had to get away."

She stared at his profile, wondering why they were fighting about her. Her brain screamed to know, though her heart kept it at bay. Her heart just wanted to keep him here and not push him away.

Suddenly her knees were nearly touching his, had she subconsciously moved closer? Before she could stop herself, her comforting hand rested on his knee, and his set on top of it. She wanted to start crying again. She felt the pressure behind her eyes and darted them away from him back out the window. They settled on the snowman, the single entity under the darkening sky. She searched for the mother and her son, hoping for their compassion, and eventually found them at the other end of the park, the young boy running towards another person, a man, his father. The woman greeted him with a kiss; the boy pointed excitedly to his snowy creation, and they walked off together as a family.

She returned her gaze back to Vaughn, and found his eyes imploring into hers. Her hand was back on her own knees again, not touching his. Had he even touched her? Had she imagined it all?

She blinked slowly, unsure of how to act under Vaughn's watch. When she opened her eyes again, he was still there, staring at her, searching in her eyes for an answer.

"Why are you dating Desmond?" he asked in a whisper.

_I don't know, I don't know!_ she screamed to herself. "Dixon… asked me to get closer."

"But do you have feelings for him?"

"I…" she started, scared of his questions. She wished he'd stop. She wished Lauren and Desmond didn't exist. She wished to say, "Desmond who?" and kiss Vaughn with all her might. "Stop," she weakly muttered, unable to look at him. She could feel his eyes boring into her; he knew her true answer.

He read her somewhat dissembled self, for on the inside she was crying in a fit of frustration and anger. Her unstoppable tears and shrieks of pain were hidden beneath the façade of shame and embarrassment that he saw.

An indefinite amount of time passed before she felt his convicting glare slip away. Both parties implicitly agreed to watch television; Vaughn must have turned it on when she refused to meet his gaze.

Eventually, she noticed his eyes were closed, and his breathing steady. After turning off the TV, she gingerly removed his shoes and turned him so his feet rested on the couch. Sydney retrieved an extra blanket from her bedroom and draped it over his sleeping form. Bending down on her knees, her hand instinctively tangled in his hair as she bent over to kiss his cheek, but she stopped herself before her lips could touch his skin. Her head hovered his, her hand still entwined in his hair. At last, feeling as if she should be crying, she lowered her head and allowed her lips to caress his soft cheek.

It took all her strength to stand again, turn out the light and leave the room. All she could think about as she changed into her pajamas was sneaking under the blanket and lying with him. But eventually, his face faded from her mind as she drifted off to sleep.

– – – – – – –

"Sydney… Sydney!" Someone was shaking her. Who? Who was in her apartment? Francie? No, no, that was the other apartment, she was in New York now. Vaughn? "Wake up, Sydney," the sweet voice coaxed.

She opened her eyes from the dream, immediately finding another pair above her. About to scream, a hand shot to her mouth to cover it tightly; presumably belonging to the possessor of the eyes. And Vaughn may have been in her apartment, but it was not his hand that covered her mouth nor his eyes that greeted hers.

As Sydney's eyes adjusted to the dark, she recognized the person who stood before her. Slowly the hand pulled away as its possessor decided Sydney wouldn't scream. "What are you doing here?" Sydney sharply whispered.

"I came to warn you," Irina replied. "The White Russian may be dead, but Omega can still survive."

"I'm calling the police," Sydney hissed through her teeth, pulling the covers off her body and rolling to the opposite side of the bed. Irina raced around the foot of the bed to stop her. She pushed her down, back onto the mattress just as she stepped on a squeaky floorboard. Her eyes scanned the door briefly, waiting to hear Vaughn's footsteps, yet she heard nothing.

"I wouldn't do that."

"Oh, but I will," Her cell phone was just across the room on the dresser. If she pushed off from her arms, she could kick her mother out of the way and–

"Sark has escaped from prison. If you don't listen to me then he'll–"

"This is preposterous." _I'm dreaming, for sure_, she decided. There's no way Sark could escape a high security prison. Why the hell am I dreaming this? "Just think about what you're saying!"

"Sh!"

She lowered her voice. "If Viktor Yudin is dead then Omega's members won't last much longer. Without a leader we'll be able to take them down within weeks."

"I warning you, don't pursue this."

"I'm–"

"Do _not_ pursue Omega."

It very quickly occurred to Sydney that she didn't care that this was a dream. Her mother was frustrating her, and all she wanted to do was kick her away. She pushed off from her arms as planned and swung her leg forward. But Irina was prepared. She grabbed her leg and twisted Sydney's body around. Sydney whimpered as her body slammed against the headboard.

Irina held her daughter's arms behind her back and Sydney struggled against her. She leaned her head into Sydney's ear. "You will do as I say, Sydney."

Sydney opened her mouth, hastily replying with, "Go to Hell," quickly followed by Irina slamming Sydney's head against the headboard with a loud crack, and Sydney drifted into further darkness.

– – – – – – –

Light poured in through the window, aching Sydney's eyes. She rolled aside with a groan. Her eyes fluttered open and she tried to remember everything that happened. Vaughn had shown up at her apartment after a fight with Lauren, and was asleep on her couch. Then, she had a dream that Irina came into her room and warned her not to get involved with Omega.

Had they both been a dream? Sydney flew out of bed and skidded around the corner, relieved to find Vaughn still snuggled under the blanket on the couch. She sighed in content, leaning against the wall as she watched him sleep.

After a moment, she turned and headed back into her room, dressed, and returned to watching Vaughn sleep. She did not know how much longer she could keep this up; watching him. Eventually he would wake up and would have to leave, despite what Sydney wanted him to do. _And he might get a little freaked out if he wakes up and sees me watching him, _she thought.

She decided to get some breakfast as quietly as she possibly could. She managed to pour some cereal and milk into a bowl without stirring him. She grabbed a spoon and made her way to the table. Staring out the window while she munched, she took pleasure in viewing the snowy park of her backyard.

At least another four inches had fallen overnight, creating a shimmering effect upon the ground, but most likely a nightmare of slush on the busy roads in contrast. She found yesterday's snowman buried under the fresh mounds of flurries, his arms poking up boldly.

Her eyes fell back into her living room, sliding to Vaughn sitting up on the couch. He rubbed his eyes and blinked at the glowing frost outside the glass, a look quickly captivating his face that resembled a young child on Christmas morning. She couldn't help but smile at him.

"'Morning," she greeted him, surprised by the effluence of her words to Vaughn.

"Good morning," he replied. Sydney restrained a grin; it was a "good" morning.

"Help yourself to breakfast," she added, pointing to the kitchen before getting caught in a yawn. She stretched her arms upward as he ravaged the kitchen; she scratched her head. _Ouch…_ Why was there a bruise on the side of her head? She must have actually smashed the headboard when she dreamt her mother had slammed her head into it.

"You okay?" Vaughn asked, returning to the table with a bowl of cereal. His forehead wrinkled at the confused expression on Sydney's face.

She set her spoon down. "Did you hear any strange noises last night?" He shook his head; no. She reassured herself that she must have dreamt it. "I had this strange dream I was fighting with my mother… I guess I was actually fighting my headboard."

He smirked. "Sounds better than my dream about a walrus driving a mini-van."

Sydney joined in with his laughter, and the two were unstoppable for a moment. Once their laughter subsided, Sydney found it easy and natural to be sitting eating breakfast with him, in spite of their truly odd situation.

They quickly found themselves done with their meals. Vaughn stood up. "Well, I probably should… go home…"

"Yeah," Sydney concurred hesitantly. "Lauren's probably worried."

She traced his footsteps slowly to the door, freezing as her hand clutched the knob, yet she refrained from twisting it and opening the door. She looked up into Vaughn's eyes, praying he would not say anything to make her want to detain him forever. "Syd, I think you should know why we were fighting."

"Please–" she attempted to stop him, tearing her eyes away.

"Since it's too conspicuous if you went to Jack's or Dixon's, and since the others are out of town, I thought you'd be alone on Thanksgiving. I kind of thought I'd invite you to join us, but… Lauren and I didn't exactly see eye to eye." She finally looked back to his eyes. His sweet, caring, loving green eyes… "Well, Happy Thanksgiving, anyway."

She opened the door at last, unable to handle his generosity. He slipped out into the hall, nearly around the corner and gone forever. "Chris, wait," she beckoned, hopping a few steps into the hall. "Happy birthday."

He simply smiled gratefully at her before walking to the elevator, glad to avoid the seven inch snow.

– – – – – – –

Monday arrived, much to Sydney's delight and everyone else's dismay. Throughout the long weekend, she had been looking forward to returning to work to see everyone again. Kerri had called her on Friday, apologizing sincerely that she was shopping in New Jersey with her younger sister leaving Sydney all alone. Sydney had wandered the horrendously busy stores on several occasions, though felt in no mood for shopping. She even called Desmond a few times, eager to hear his jokes, yet his rings went unanswered.

Sydney sat in her dressing room that Monday morning skimming through an old magazine when her door burst open unexpectedly. "Happy December!" Kerri shouted gleefully before pouncing onto the couch next to Sydney. "How was your weekend? Please, tell me it didn't suck, tell me it didn't suck."

Sydney shrugged. "It was all right."

"I knew it! It sucked! I knew I should have stayed here and kept you company. I'm so sorry."

"No, no. You should be with your family on Thanksgiving, I'm glad you were."

Kerri tilted her head so it rested on Sydney's shoulder. She slid the magazine onto her own lap and proceeded to flip through. "I'm sorry you couldn't go back to Seattle…"

"Me too," she sighed, thinking about Will and Francie again.

"Well if it helps any, my sister was annoying and my brother was a royal pain in the ass. She thinks because she's a senior in high school, she's all that, and he think he's master of the universe because he's at Yale. Plus. My father is desperate to marry me to a nice Vietnamese boy so I can learn more traditions of my heritage. And mom… She's too busy worshipping my genius brother to pay any attention to what's going on.

"So, you know," she continued, "nothing new happened."

Sydney laughed. "Come on, we have to go rehearse 'I Got Rhythm' ten billion times," she later said after checking her watch.

They jumped off the couch and entered the hallway, and just as they turned the corner to get to the stage, Weiss stepped out in front of them, stopping Sydney abruptly. He cleared his throat and cast a glance to Kerri. She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion and crept forward slowly. "I'll catch you later, Soph."

Sydney played confused as well. "What is it, Nicolas?" she asked, watching as Kerri slipped out of hearing range.

"Dixon asked me to find you, this is serious." He pulled her arm back into her dressing room and closed the door tightly. "Julian Sark escaped five days ago from prison."

"What?"

"I know, I know. Dixon was furious it took us this long to find out. We should have been notified immediately.

Sydney was horrorstruck. Her dream about Irina… It hadn't been a dream at all. Irina really came into her room, watched her, and told her the truth about Sark. All that meant that her warning about not pursuing Omega had been real as well… "Shit," she whispered. She looked up at her fellow agent. "My mother told me."

"What?" Now it was Weiss's turn.

"She came into my room a few nights ago and told me–"

"Whoa, Derevko in your _room_?"

"–She wanted me not to do this mission… I-I thought I was dreaming. This is so absurd."

"Tell me about it… Listen, you should tell Dixon about this. And your dad."

Sydney nodded, leading him back towards the stage. She'd consider telling Dixon, but she refused to tell Jack. After his peculiar demand last Wednesday this would only make him crazier. In fact, he might order her off the mission, which would ruin everything.

Why did Irina Derevko always complicate things?

She tried to forget about the incident during the rehearsal. For the next two hours she managed to concentrate mainly on 'I Got Rhythm', both song and dance. Although, she had to admit, it was rather frustrating when Damien Bruggman stopped them every ten seconds to correct one tiny mistake. She laughed at Weiss for pointing out that she was off key every time she sang, whether she was truly off or perfectly in tune. And she noticed particularly that the entire cast enjoyed watching her smack him upside the head when the director had his back turned.

But what Sydney enjoyed the most was, despite the rigorous rehearsal, she hardly had to worry about acting. She was pretending to be Sophia pretending to be Polly, but the pretense became forgotten behind the singing and dancing.

_Plus, it's nice to be completely civil with Vaughn. And dancing with Vaughn and singing with Vaughn…_

_Chris, I mean Chris._

When Damien finally felt somewhat satisfied by their progress, he dismissed them for lunch, calling for Chris and Desmond to return at one to work on the 'What Causes That?' number. Sydney bolted off the stage to grab her coat from her dressing room. She was starving, especially after hours of tap dancing.

She was in the lobby when she heard someone call, "Sophia!" She turned, finding Desmond jogging towards her to catch up. She noticed his T-shirt fitting comfortably over his muscles, and his coat slung casually over his shoulder. "Hey," he smiled weakly when he caught up to her. "Sorry if you tried to call me over the weekend, for some reason my phone lost service out there."

_Sure it did_, Sydney thought, perhaps too harshly.

"You want to grab some lunch with me?" he asked, a puppy dog look sinking into his eyes. How could she say no to that? Damn the persuasion… Still, she was still mad at him. All weekend and no contact. That was one, two, three, four days and nothing. Not an e-mail, phone call, nothing. Desmond must have noticed her skeptic look. "Sophia, I'm really sorry about this weekend. I… I really missed you," he leaned in closer and whispered this onto her forehead.

She breathed in his warm scent and sighed. Suddenly she saw movement out of the corner of her eye; a janitor, mopping the tiles; _Jack_, mopping the tiles. She reminisced what both Jack and Irina had said to her, and in a necessity of defiance, she uttered loud enough for Jack to hear, "I missed you too." She smiled at Desmond. "Let's go get lunch." She wrapped her arm around Desmond's and proceeded with him out the door, knowing perfectly well that Jack was raging inside.

A/n: Damn, that was long! I had another three or four pages, too, but I threw that into Chapter 7 for ya. Well, whadja think? Methinks you'll greatly enjoy the next chapter. Seriously, I can't wait. So let's review because you love me and want more (please?)!


	7. Embraceable You

Chapter 7: Embraceable You

A/n: So this is my other favorite chapter. And well, chapter eight is my other other favorite, hehe. Anyway, do enjoy.

"_Embrace me, my sweet embraceable you, embrace me, you irreplaceable you."_

­– – – – – – –

Sydney had dreams over the weeks following her mother's visit and her father's warning (she was certain they were dreams- they were often in a cave, and her father fashioned a handlebar mustache). Despite the mustache, the dreams left her feeling drained and sleepless, a difficult predicament for someone forced to dance all day long.

Kerri helped her in that department. Her youthful spirit and incessant need for coffee trips contributed to Sydney's energy. And when she felt truly down, Desmond could on occasion cheer her up. Weiss could make her laugh at anything, but Vaughn would walk by and her heart would flutter.

Then he would walk up to his wife, and her heart would shatter.

One Sunday, Sydney slept in later than usual, finally having a dreamless night. Her eyes snapped open, however, when she heard a knocking on her door. She rose from her bed sleepily and trudged to the door. She opened the door and rubbed her eyes.

"Happy birthday!" Kerri shouted, pushing the door open further and barging inside. Sydney reset her feet and gained more balance. She glanced at the calendar on the wall in the kitchen; sure enough, it was December 14, Sophia's birthday.

"What are you doing here… so early?" Sydney yawned.

Kerri giggled, sitting down at the table with her legs crossed. "Silly! It's almost one!"

"PM?"

She nodded before getting a look on her face that expressed, 'Oh! I just remembered something!' Scavenging her purse atop the table, she pulled out an envelope. "Look, I have pictures from Thanksgiving." She handed Sydney the envelope as she joined her at the table. She scanned through the family photos. "God, I'm so much whiter than my sister and brother. They actually _look_ half-Vietnamese."

"They look just like your dad."

"Well, he'd be the foreign one. Oh, look, it's one with my mom and the dog. I think she prefers the dog to us kids, I couldn't get any pictures of us together." She rolled her eyes.

Sydney couldn't help but think of her family. Her mother, she never was around, and Jack's presence was faded. Now it seemed reversed: Jack too involved and Irina showing up at inopportune moments. Not to mention telling her to do things she refused to–

"So, can I throw you a giant birthday bash, or what? You plan on getting dressed any time soon?"

Sydney stared down at her pajamas. "Oh. I guess I better do that."

Later, after a fun filled afternoon of shopping and girl talk, Kerri insisted on throwing a big party, but Sydney curtly declined. Instead, she opted for an evening out with Kerri, Desmond, and Weiss.

The four of them were all talking openly (and slightly drunk) after their meal. Weiss was telling a story about "his son."

"That's a good one, Nick," Desmond smiled, leaning back in his chair and stretching his arm around Sydney's back. Desmond met her gaze and lifted his glass. "Well, Sophia, happy thirty-second birthday."

Weiss interrupted. "May the next thirty-two be just as fun as the last," he slurred, gulping down his last swig of beer.

Her friends seemed to be enjoying themselves except for Sydney. Sophia may have been turning thirty-two, but Sydney was really thirty-three. She found it odd that she had missed her thirty-second birthday, and now was making up for lost time.

Suddenly her cell phone rang. "Hello?"

"Syd, it's Dixon," his deep voice canted.

"Hi, Mom, thanks! I can't believe I'm thirty-two either." She pulled the phone away from her ear and covered the mouth piece. "Excuse me, guys," she told the table, excusing herself to the lobby. "Hi Dixon, what's up?"

"We just received big intel, it couldn't wait until tomorrow." Sydney furrowed her brow in confusion as he continued. "There have been rumors surfacing about a new leader of Omega, and with Echelon and other sources, we have just confirmed its truth."

"That's probably why activity has been laying low for a while."

"Exactly, he's still determining his position. He calls himself the Black Russian."

"Do we have any leads as to his actual name?"

"We're thinking possibly Sark." _Or my mother_, Sydney thought, but couldn't bring herself to say. "Sydney, I really need to you to find out about Desmond's activity…"

"I'm working on it."

They shortly ended their conversation and Sydney returned to the table. Why hadn't she mentioned her mother? She knew she should have, she had known it ever since it happened. There was something that restrained her, an uncontrollable force within herself that wanted to protect her mother. But why?

She found Weiss alone at the table. "Kerri saw some guy she knew, and Desmond went to the bathroom," he explained.

"Good," Sydney said, sliding into her seat. "That was Dixon, it turns out there's a new leader of Omega. Calls himself the Black Russian."

"Okay, I _know_ that's the name of a drink."

She ignored him. "We really have to watch out now, or so Dixon says."

Desmond rejoined them, prompting what felt like an awkward silence to Sydney. Kerri quickly followed. "God, that guy is such a bastard!"

"Wait," said Weiss, "you just said he was like your best friend a few minutes ago."

"Yeah, that was a few minutes ago?" she replied, in a "duh!" manner. "Whatever, I'm over him. Well, Soph, boys, this evening has been fun, but let's get some chocolate."

The foursome chatted a while longer, waiting for the bill to arrive. Suddenly Kerri's eyes lit up from across the table. "Well, look who it is."

Sydney turned. _Oh. God. Help me now._ It was Vaughn. And… Lauren. "Chris, Denise, hi," she greeted, pretending to be cheerful.

Lauren smiled around the table, but seemed to skip meeting Sydney's glare. Vaughn seemed to do just the opposite. "Oh, it's Sophia's birthday, isn't it? Happy birthday."

She held her cheeks in, hoping desperately they were not turning crimson. "Thank-you," she managed to mutter. Did he have to look so attractive tonight? Did he have to be so perfect and kind to her all the time? Did he have to go and marry that horrid blonde British bitch?

"Christopher, I'm getting hungry," Lauren uttered softly.

"Okay," he replied quickly. "Well, see you tomorrow at rehearsal."

They said their good-byes, but Sydney could hardly wave. No one appeared to be noticing her current state of anguish, luckily. She quickly darted her eyes at Vaughn, then brought them back to Desmond. She thought of her mother, her father, and their messages, she thought of Vaughn and the pain he caused her, and she thought of Rose's words.

"_But things change. You can't always go back to the way things used to be."_

She couldn't take it anymore. She would not stand for having her heart broken anymore. Why was she chasing this dream with Vaughn? He was married, that was it. And here was Desmond right in front of her: cute and sweet. A bit mysterious at times, but altogether not bad.

If she was going to get through this mission, she had to try to give up on Vaughn, once and for all. It sounded right in her brain, but did her heart truly agree?

– – – – – – –

Sydney became extremely goal oriented for the next week or so. She worked hard in every rehearsal and sang her heart out at every chance. Her improvement was eminent to everyone. All of her focus went into her work, and she hardly thought about Vaughn.

…Until the Christmas party.

Many of the actors had gotten to know Dixon (as Aaron Lapeer) because of his security guard status. He decided to host a Christmas party in which he invited much of the cast, crew, and coworkers of the theater. This included all of the agents.

When Sydney arrived she was pleasantly surprised to find many people she knew. She spotted Marshall and a very pregnant Carrie in a corner chatting with Dixon's daughter as Kerri popped up to greet Sydney.

"Hey there! Merry Christmas," she said, giving her a hug. "Looks like you're stuck with me. Desmond's out east with his parents and Nick's with his son."

"Yeah, I know," Sydney added, cringing slightly as James Jones, who played Polly's father, gave her a peculiar smile as he passed her by. When he left, she asked, "Does he creep you out as much as he creeps me out?"

"Yeah, just a little bit," she giggled. "Come on, we need to get you a drink!" Kerri pulled her through the house, and Sydney flashed a quick smile at Marshall and Carrie before entering the kitchen. Inside she saw Jack and Dixon talking; they looked serious. They noticed Kerri and Sydney enter and the appearance on their faces softened. Dixon let out a hearty chuckle, pretending to be laughing at something Jack had said.

Kerri shoved a cup into Sydney's hand. She hoped they would leave, but Kerri took a seat at the table to Sydney's dismay. And it seemed that Dixon and her father were not leaving any time soon. Sydney sighed to herself and sat, praying Kerri would not say anything about Desmond. Luckily, before she could speak, Vaughn entered the room carrying a bottle of wine. He set it onto the table, his arm brushing against Sydney's back. Shivers tickled her body, but she told herself no, she could not let herself do this.

"Hello, Mr. Garth," Dixon greeted him. "Where's your wife?"

"Aaron, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Chris?" he grinned, taking off his coat. He wore a sleek black shirt and that pair of jeans that made his butt – No! She couldn't do it, she had to stop. "And I think Denise is in the living room talking with Becca Green."

"Whoa, Becca's here? Interacting with us not during a rehearsal?" Kerri asked in shock.

"I know, it's odd," Vaughn replied, turning his gaze to Sydney and Kerri. Sydney stared at his feet. "But she and her husband are here." He shrugged and helped himself to drink at the table and leaned casually against the wall.

Sydney's eyes turned to her cup. Why didn't he leave already? Didn't he want to go be with Lauren? She noticed Kerri eyeing her suspiciously, probably wondering why Sydney was glaring a hole into her cup. She quickly downed the alcohol, setting the empty glass on the table. She would have to act civil. And friendly. To _everyone_, including Vaughn and Lauren.

Would someone please say something and break the silence? It began to echo in Sydney's ears, a dull ringing reverberating throughout her mind. Jack cleared his throat. Well, it was start.

Finally, Dixon spoke. "So how goes the big Finale act? Opening Night is only about a month away."

"It's so much dancing!" Kerri exclaimed. "Wait, Damien Bruggman's not here, is he?" Dixon shook his head. "Okay, because he's insane."

"He just wants it perfect," Sydney added, "but sometimes he can be… a little over the top about it."

"She means he's psycho." Kerri winked at her.

"I think 'I Got Rhythm' is much more difficult," Vaughn said.

Sydney turned to face him. "You don't have a big singing solo there, either."

"Yeah, so I'm not a little sharp."

Sydney pretended to act hurt. "Ah! Well maybe you're a little off on your tap solo."

He simply laughed in reply. As Sydney's smile faded, she realized… Did she and Vaughn just flirt a little? No no no, that couldn't happen! But he even started it. What was wrong with the world? She wished she did not have to endure this severe mental torture.

Kerri was ignorant of her mental breakdown. "It's a lot longer that the Finale, that's for sure."

Eventually the party had all meandered back into the living room. Sydney mostly sat with Kerri, and someone would occasionally join them in conversation. She kept a careful eye on Vaughn, meanwhile. He never seemed to be with Lauren. Ever. Not once throughout the entire party did she see them talking, let alone standing together. Could there be something wrong? Another fight, perhaps?

Her lips curled into a slight smile, though it did not go unnoticed by Kerri. "What are you smiling about?" she asked, settling against the arm of the couch.

"Oh, I'm just thinking…" she trailed off. _What about, what about?_ "About Desmond." _Desmond. Hm…_

Kerri smiled smugly. "Sophia Tamas, Got a ring to it, doesn't it?" Sydney rolled her eyes. "I mean, it doesn't sound as good as Kerri Wood, but Elijah just doesn't know he's meant for me yet."

Sydney and Kerri continued to laugh and chat with each other, still talking with others on occasion. Funny how Lauren never made her way around to them, huh? The next time Sydney glanced over at Vaughn he was walking towards the door. Lauren already had her coat on and waited impatiently for him. He opened the door and she turned abruptly and walked out at a brisk pace. And Vaughn slowly followed, closing the door behind him.

– – – – – – –

Rehearsals resumed on the twenty-sixth. The director had only allowed them two days off for Christmas, and he told them ahead of time that they wouldn't be getting any off for New Year's.

By New Year's Eve, many of the agents were stressed by the intel of the Black Russian, particularly as they struggled to collect audio evidence from the planted microphones.

After a lazy day of rehearsing non-dancing scenes, Damien Bruggman suddenly burst into a fit of rage. The majority of the cast was present, including Sydney, Vaughn, Lauren, and Weiss. "We have barely three weeks before opening night! Three weeks, people! Smith and Garth," he snapped, looking at Sydney. "The 'Embraceable You' scene is under-prepared. 'I Got Rhythm' and the Finale are garbage too. The remainder of our rehearsal time will go to the latter two numbers. You will work on Embraceable You in your spare time." In the harshness of his tone, many stood silent, merely blinking. "Forget it! Go home, you lackadaisical thespians."

Oddly, the director himself was the first off the stage despite the stampede of the cowboys and showgirls. Vaughn approached Sydney as the remaining others collected their belongings and slowly filed offstage. "Um… I think we should just get through with it tonight and not later."

"I agree," she concurred, but glanced over at Lauren buttoning her black tea coat.

Vaughn saw where her gaze landed. "I'll tell Lauren we'll be rehearsing a while. Why don't you take a quick break right now? Get some water, I'll meet you back here in a sec."

"Okay." She watched him walk over towards Lauren, however the angle of her eyes to his body blocked her from view, so she was unable to watch his wife's expression. Deciding to adhere to Vaughn's suggestion, she headed for her dressing room and grabbed two bottles of water for them. When she returned to the stage, she was alone with Vaughn.

"Ready?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

Hmph, he looked so cute. No! Bad Sydney, bad… "Yeah. Where do we start this scene?"

"You are… stage right, and I'm approaching you from stage left." Sydney took her place, and Vaughn cleared his throat. "'Polly, ve have important talk now, yah?'" he asked, adopting a Hungarian accent as Bobby Child pretended to be Bela Zangler.

"'Sure. What's up?'" she replied smoothly with a slight southern accent.

"'I vould like to speak to you about Bobby Child.'"

She turned her back to him. "'Oh, him…'"

"'Polly, he has told me that he is… crazy for you.'"

Sydney turned back to face "Bobby/Zangler." She knew they were only acting, but he had such sincerity on his face. Did she look like that too? She wondered. "'Well, I can't help that. I'm already spoken for.'"

"'You are?'"

"'Yeah. In my heart, anyway.'"

"'It's that Lank person, yah?'" he roared angrily. "This is where the music starts right?" Sydney nodded. "Okay. 'I tell you, I don't like him! He is totally wrong for–'"

"'It isn't Lank.'"

"'Moose?'"

"'You just don't understand anything, do ya? _Dozens of men would storm up, I'd have to lock my door / Somehow I couldn't warm up to one before_/'"

Bobby was supposed to ignore Polly's singing, still guessing names. "'Pete? Sam?'"

"'_What was it that controlled me/ What kept my love life lean/_'"

"'Lank, Moose, Pete Sam,'" he counted on his fingers, turning more towards the non-existing audience.

"'_My intuition told me you'd come on the scene_/'"

He turned back to her in total shock. "'Me?'" Sydney couldn't help but laugh at his expression. "What?" he asked, breaking from character.

"Sorry, your face, you look so horrified," she attempted to stifle herself.

"Well… Bobby is horrified. Polly's supposed to fall in love with him, not Zangler."

Hm, he was right. "Okay. Let's keep going. '_Mister, listen to the rhythm of my heartbeat_/'" she grabbed his hand, and pressed it to her heart, managing not to realize its proximity to… herself.

"'Uh oh.'"

"'_And you'll know just what I mean/_'"

"'Polly, you are making big mistake here.'"

"'_Embrace me, my sweet embraceable you_/'" She moved his hand from her chest and held it before her, now singing directly to him.

"You're off key. 'I think ve gotta talk about this.'"

"I'm not. '_Embrace me, you irreplaceable you_/'"

"Just a little. 'This is not vhat I vas planning.'"

"'_Just one look at you my heart grew tipsy in me_/'" She lifted one of his hands and stroked the side of his head.

"'No no no no no!'" he urged.

She pushed him down on one knee. "'_You and you alone bring out the gypsy in me_/" She lifted one leg upon his thigh and swung her hips once provocatively.

"'That's because I'm Hungarian–'"

"'_I love all the many charms about you_/'"

"'You are making big joke now, yah?'"

"'_Above all, I want my arms about you/_'"

Sydney slowly pulled him back up so he stood closely to her body. "'Okay, it's not a joke.'"

"'_Don't be a naughty baby / Come to Polly, come to Polly, do / My sweet embraceable you._'" By then, they had arranged themselves so Vaughn swayed behind Sydney with his arms wrapped around her stomach, hugging her to him. She soon turned around and they properly adjusted to a dancing position.

"'Now just imagine if I vas Bobby.'"

"'You dance even better than he does.'"

"'No, I don't think so.'"

They continued to dance, and Vaughn began to hum the music. His perfect intonation and rhythm lulled Sydney to a peaceful state. Here she was, all alone in the theater, dancing with Vaughn. But that's when the realization struck. They still had to perform a stage kiss. It was obvious they both had been stalling on it. When would it finally happen?

Sydney had hoped they could perhaps ignore it until opening night, when it would just… happen? She knew that would never work. And something had to be practiced. No, no, she couldn't do it. She couldn't bear the torture of kisses here, kisses there, all meaningless stage kisses. However, that was exactly what she wanted and did not want at the same time: their meaninglessness.

She felt his warm, comforting hand gripping hers, holding it gently as he hummed. He was nearing the end of the musical interlude. Why? Why, oh why couldn't they stay and dance like this forever?

They danced their way to center stage, where they came to a stop but held their position. "'_In your arms I find love so delectable, dear_/'" She grabbed one of his hands and stepped in front of him, facing the audience. She dragged it down her side slowly, his fingers lightly brushing her breast. "'_I'm afraid it isn't quite respectable, dear / But hang it! Come on, let's glorify love/ Ding dang it! You'll shout "Encore!" if I love/_'" She reluctantly separated from him and wandered stage right. "'_Don't be a naughty baby / Come to Polly, come to Polly, do…_'" She lifted her eyes to his. They met, and they edged toward each other.

Their outstretched arms met, and he pulled her to him. Together, they sang, "'_My sweet embraceable…_'"

Sydney's eyes never faltered from his. "And this is the part where we… kiss…"

"Yeah."

Suddenly before she knew it, his head was leaning in towards hers; their lips met together softly at first, then grew more hungry. Sydney's head was swirling, was this really happening? Was she really kissing Vaughn?

At a loss for breath, both parties pulled away, their heads lingering closely together. "I…" Dear God, what was she going to say? That was not a stage kiss; that was the farthest thing from a stage kiss. If anything, it was the most real experience she had had since two years ago. "Have to go now." She backed away from his arms, confusion bubbling over like a frothing cauldron. She turned sharply and briskly walked back to her dressing room to fetch her coat.

What the hell was she going to do?

She was going to go to the New Year's party at Weiss's apartment. And she was going to pretend like nothing happened. And she was going to lick his taste on her lips all night long.

A/n: Ah, sweet revenge. Revenge on what, I have not a clue. Revenge is just a fun word. Revenge. Mwahaha. Now say it aloud with a deep, dark voice. Now laugh evilly. I seriously hope someone walked by and called you weird while you just did that. Hm. Did you not LOVE this chapter? Please review! And for their choreography during the song I used the stuff from when my school did this musical last year.


	8. Tonight's the Night

Chapter 8: Tonight's the Night

A/n: If you either don't know the musical's story or don't remember from the summary, I highly recommend going back to chapter 2 to read the summary (it will help make sense). By the way, jandl, I had such a bad day when I read your review and it made me feel so much better, so thanks a ton!

There's no fun in being an angel child– I hear the call of the wild. If the worst should happen, it serves me right, tonight's the night.

– – – – – – – 

Opening night. The words echoed through Sydney's head as she paced around her dressing room. She checked to make sure all her costumes were in place for the hundredth time, and glanced in the mirror at her make-up job. Fine, it was fine. No. It was perfect.

How was it opening night already? Just yesterday was the dress rehearsal, which went through with plenty of problems, all conveniently pointed out by Damien Bruggman. Sydney didn't care, though. His problems were much different than her own, thank you very much.

It was just a day over two weeks ago, Sydney had been rehearsing alone with Vaughn on that stage. It was just a day over two weeks ago that Sydney had danced with Vaughn on that stage. It was just a day over two weeks ago that Sydney had kissed him too…

The kiss.

For the first time that night, she sat down, finally not frantic over opening night; her mind was too jumbled in confusion over Vaughn. This was the man she argued with constantly at first, this was the man she longed for through endless meetings, this was the man she waited for until the end of SD-6, this was the man she loved so hard it hurt. But this was the man who hurt her more than anyone.

How could he go and get married to some other woman, and still sweep her off her feet with one kiss months later? He dared to have the nerve to think she wanted him back. Oh, no, buddy! She was through with him.

Wasn't she?

She was ready to move on without him, and he had to go and ruin that too. But the worst part was… Sydney loved every second of it.

Weiss's New Year's party had been a nightmare. She smiled at everyone, acted happy and carefree like Sophia would be, however it was pretense only. Inside she was screaming, laughing, yelling, crying, singing; her world had been rocked upside down yet again. She could hardly manage to look Desmond in the eye. It pained her to kiss his cheek as the clock struck midnight.

And when she returned home, she cried. She crawled under her covers and rolled into a ball, and engulfed herself in tears of agony. What happened? What was going to happen? Did he still love her? Did he still love his wife? What the hell was happening to her?

The remaining rehearsals were excruciating. Sydney would look at Vaughn and feel complete confusion, desolation, adoration, and desperation for an answer in his eyes. She would search and search, and then she would eye Lauren amongst the other showgirls. And then she'd feel embarrassed. For everyone must gape at the fool who kissed Vaughn! They all must scrutinize the girl who thought there may be another chance!

She worked under dissembled red cheeks and feelings of hatred for the onlookers. She practiced the stage kisses with ease now. She forced her lips up despite the accumulating bile behind them. Such a passion of proving herself to the bourgeois that thought she couldn't handle it took control of her each day on that stage, and battled hard for her restored reputation.

But now, it was opening night.

And that changed everything.

Suddenly, she was Sophia, a young and striving actress from Seattle with no where to go but up. She was suddenly acting with Chris, someone she had just met this year. And she just realized now, sitting on the couch in her dressing room approximately one hour before opening night, that absolutely not one person knew she had kissed Vaughn.

Not.

One.

Person.

_Knock, knock, knock_. She threw her eyes to the door, expecting whomever the person was to walk through the entrance anyway. _Knock, knock, knock_. She sighed; opening night. Standing and smoothing out her blue dress, she hobbled around the cramped coffee table to the door and opened it. "Rose, Gabriel, I can't believe you're here!" she exclaimed, shocked to see her former teachers standing outside her door.

Gabriel charged through the door first, and Rose calmly followed. "Sophie girl! Of course we'd come to see you! And my boyfriend's in this too and I wouldn't pass up a chance to see him dressed as a cowboy…"

She gave him a tight hug. "Thanks for coming. It's so great to see you again!"

"I'm sitting in the third row, center, so sing to me. Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I'll go take a sneaky peek at Jordan now… Break a leg!" He quickly hugged her once more and dashed away from the room. Sydney chuckled lightly at him and closed the door. Now she was alone with Rose Callaway. Rose, Rose, Rose…

With the door shut tightly, Rose took a seat on the couch. "Sydney," her raspy voice rolled, "are you nervous?"

She gulped. God damn, that woman knew everything. Her knees buckled and she fell back onto the couch as well. "I've hardly been nervous in my life, but –"

"Broadway is something else," her lips curled into a smile. "Remember the sharp in 'I Got Rhythm' and you'll be fine."

"Duly noted." Rose glanced around the tiny dressing room, studying Sydney's decorations carefully. Sydney watched as her eyes wandered across the spread of magazines on the table, the pictures taped to the left side of the mirror, the clutter of make-up on the counter.

Sydney, however, began to study Rose. Something about her presence looked different, as if she had something on her mind, but at the same time, perhaps she did not. She paused to cough a few times, a slight wince with each one, but she returned to her studying.

The old woman inhaled a deep, shaky breath and let it out slowly. "Rose," Sydney began, reminiscing in her training days in Detroit, "may I ask you a question?" She nodded solemnly, hesitation before meeting her gaze. "Did something happen between you and your sisters to make you leave Broadway?"

Her question hung in the air; dense as a mist slowly creeping across a valley. "I already told you, I loved the piano more than I did the stage–"

"I don't believe you. I see you here. I see the look in your eyes now, and when you stared at that picture of you with your sisters. So don't lie to me, I just want to know the truth." Rose placed her hand to her chest and coughed a few times before reading Sydney's face. Sydney closed her eyes briefly, and soon spoke again in a calmer tone. "You told me things change. And you can't go back to the way things used to be… What changed?"

"Many things happened all those years ago; it's difficult to say there was only one. Tonight I am here with my nephew, Andrew. He is about your age, perhaps older. He is Lily's son, my older sister's." She paused and took a few heavy breaths. "Things do change, child, but they aren't how they used to be because they're never exactly the same. Things can get worse, yet also better. Do you understand?" Sydney wasn't sure, yet she nodded anyway. Rose took her hands. "I will never have my old life back, with my sisters, and my husband, and my Broadway. But now… I've found a new life amongst the old. It's not the same, but it's just as good."

Sydney understood then, perhaps not as much as Rose had, but she understood. Rose was a woman of many secrets, and none that she was entirely keen on sharing. However, she was also virtuous in wisdom, and revealed her secrets in another form.

Rose patted Sydney's head and stood up, shuffling around the coffee table to the door. "I must find Andrew now, he's probably worried sick about me." She let out a light laugh, though Sydney couldn't figure out why.

She stood up as well. "Thank you," she said sincerely, wrapping her arms around her neck. "Thank you for _everything_."

When she finally released from the hug, Rose twisted open the door and walked elegantly into the hall. "Oh, and Sophia? About tonight… Knock 'em dead."

– – – – – – – 

"Five minutes," someone whispered, sparking fireworks of nervous squeals about the cast backstage. Sydney loomed near the door to the dressing rooms with Weiss. He was telling her about an after-party at Kerri's apartment, but she was more interested in watching Vaughn and Desmond interact near the edge of the curtain. There seemed a false friendship between them, pretending they were pals, when Sydney could see through their act laced with a coat of loathing for one another. Vaughn and Sydney. Desmond and Sophia. Of course, Desmond didn't know about Vaughn and Sydney, but there was still something about Chris Garth he found rather unappealing.

"Places!" a crew member spread the word, hushing those backstage. Several showgirls, Kerri, Vaughn, and Desmond all walked out to take their places. They froze in place as the overture commenced, the familiar tunes sweeping over a now silent audience. But soon, the red velvety curtain parted.

"'Shoulders back! Heads high! One more time!'" Kerri's voice rang out over the theater.

Sydney watched with amusement. Something was different about tonight rather than the dress rehearsals, something… Magical in the air. Vaughn opened the first song, tap dancing around Desmond without a care in the world. Later, Vaughn sang and danced better than Sydney had ever seen him dance for 'I Can't Be Bothered Now.'

Seeing Vaughn dance, and seeing the faces in the audience make her think. And she didn't think back to her mother, her father, or this mission; she thought back to Rose. She knew she had to become Rose Callaway tonight. She had to own that stage; she had to belong there, like Rose said. Sydney knew she never belonged in a musical. But she was Sophia now. She had to do it for Rose…

And suddenly before Sydney knew it, she was taking her place behind the door as the other cowboys started 'I'm Bidin' my Time.' Right on cue, she wandered through the door and delivered a tired, "'Mail call!'" The remainder of the scene flew by, with a dehydrated Bobby crawling in and singing his love song for Polly. The scene finished without a hitch and rapidly moved into the next scene.

They sang their first song together– 'Could You Use Me?'– shortly after he planted a light kiss on Sydney's lips. It was so soft and tender that Sydney wasn't acting as she jerked away in shock.

It still, somehow, felt wonderful when Polly got to slap Bobby for being "from that bank." She basked in delight as Vaughn returned as Bela Zangler, complete with his cute little Hungarian accent.

When she belted out 'Someone to Watch Over Me' she felt truly alone and in dire need of someone to love. She even felt awkward as she ran in on Bobby kissing Irene, however relished the resulting argument with Lauren (which Polly totally won, by the way).

And soon, it was just her and Vaughn for the opening of 'Embraceable You.' He looked into her eyes and told her that Bobby was crazy for Polly; Sydney heard the sincerity in his voice and saw the emphasis his eyes gave. As the song went on, they were no longer Polly and Bobby/Zangler. They were no longer Sophia and Chris. She was just Sydney, and he was just Vaughn. And they were together, singing out their real emotions and dancing on air, as if nothing would ever stop them…

Their voices harmonized in a concluding, "'_My sweet embraceable…_'" and then he kissed her. Not a stage kiss like the past weeks, but a real kiss, with more passion surging through their bodies than before. His fingers tickled down her neck as he pulled her closer. But the lights went blank, and they were forced to separate. He lingered in her arms a moment longer before they headed to their next positions.

'I Got Rhythm' went better than ever imagined, and a dehydrated Zangler went unnoticed by everyone except the audience as he pulled himself onto the stage.

During intermission, everyone was giddy with excitement. The vibe from the audience was spectacular, everyone felt it. Sydney went to change her clothes and fix her make-up. She wanted to find someone to talk to about how amazing it all was, yet she found no one.

She was soon back on stage for the second act and she watched Weiss nail the opening song. And when Bobby tried to propose to Polly, Vaughn looked positively desperate, and absolutely pathetic when he had to tell Polly that he had been Zangler all along. Sydney played him coldly as Polly refused to believe him, and moments later landed a fiery kiss on the now present real Zangler.

She stopped and watched Vaughn and Desmond perform their hilarious duet flawlessly, and she even enjoyed Lauren's 'Naughty Baby' number. (Though she had to admit, Lauren made quite the little slut.)

The next scene passed quickly and Vaughn was serenading her with 'They Can't Take That Away From Me.' He embodied such sadness in his voice, and when his green eyes fought to gaze into Sydney's, it was as if he was remembering all their moments together from two years ago; the moments they could no longer have. She could hear his longing and pain he had gone through. He was truly cherishing them. They had taken Sydney, but they could never take those memories away from him.

Sydney proceeded to pour her soul into 'But Not For Me' as she watched Vaughn exit stage right­– "'_Although I can't dismiss the memory of his kiss…_'" –feeling as lost and dismayed as when she returned from Hong Kong.

She leaned against the door between the dressing rooms and backstage watching Vaughn and several Follies Girls sweetly sing and dance their way through 'Nice Work If You Can Get It.' She felt her heart pump faster as he ripped the Deed of Trust in half and stormed off stage; he's going back for Polly.

Unintentionally, lost in the darkness, she brushed against his hand as she headed onstage for the final scene. And after a wild goose chase between Bobby and Polly, Kerri kicked off the Finale. "'_Drop that long face. Have your fling_.'" "'_Why keep nursing the blues?_'"

Sydney rushed for a costume change while the others continued singing. She returned just in time, tapping Vaughn on the shoulder, front and center stage. " You wanna dance, Bobby?'"

"'Who could ask for anything more?'"

Bobby and Polly had finally found each other. He hugged her and kissed her passionately, the perfect ending. But they must finish Finale's dancing and singing.

And suddenly, she was running out and curtsying before a huge crowd; standing ovation, deafening claps, cheers, and whistles. She took Vaughn's hand at her right, and Desmond's hand at her left and they bowed as a company. The curtain closed, and the entire cast cheered and exchanged hugs. The worst was over- opening night was done.

Sydney went back to her dressing room to change her clothes, then headed over to Kerri's place for an after party. She was eager to talk to someone, anyone really, about how incredible this whole night was. When she walked through the door to her apartment, she was blasted with music and the sounds of people talking over it. There were drinks everywhere, and she spotted Kerri talking with a group in the corner, drink in hand. She waved happily to Sydney but stayed talking with her group.

Sydney sighed and sat down at a free space of couch, grabbing a drink from the table. She sipped idly at it, staring around the room for anyone to talk to. Where was Weiss? Vaughn? Hell, she'd talk to Lauren about it right now. Did no one care that this was a wonderful experience? Didn't anyone understand that she _had_ captured Rose's abilities tonight? Apparently not. Kerri was too young to understand; drinking off the success was good enough.

Sydney felt a warm hand on her shoulder. She looked up to find its owner; Desmond Tamas. "Hey," she greeted him with a smile, setting her now empty orange plastic cup on the table in front of her.

Desmond bent over– leaning his face in towards Sydney's– to talk over the music. "Do you want to come to my place. It's much more quiet, and secluded. And… we can talk."

She gratefully accepted, taking his hand as he lead her out the door. Finally, someone who would understand her feelings!

– – – – – – – 

Desmond dropped his keys on a table near the door and slipped his coat off, helping Sydney's with hers as she looked around. His apartment was slightly smaller than hers, but still perfect for one person. It was well kept and very comfortable looking.

Sydney sat down on the couch as Desmond retrieved some wine and glasses. He sat next to her and poured her a glass. "Sophia, you were amazing tonight," he said, handing her the wine.

"You were awesome, too–"

"No, I mean, you were… outstanding! You're going to be huge one day, I know it, leading in all the Broadway hits."

Sydney blushed. "I don't know about that…"

"I can't wait to read the reviews tomorrow. They're going to gush about you and Chris."

She smirked. "Ve'll see about that, Mr. Zangler," she replied with his Hungarian accent. Desmond lowered his wine glass and stared into Sydney's eyes. She took a larger gulp of the red liquid than she had intended. "Tonight just felt perfect, you know? I've never been in any performance like it."

"I know what you mean. And the chemistry with the audience was great."

"Yeah." Sydney lowered her wine glass as well. Here she was, sitting in Desmond's apartment, talking so civilly over a bottle of wine. He lifted his hand to her face, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, then brushed his fingertips over her cheek.

She closed her eyes and leaned into his embrace; he trailed kisses down her neck. And Suddenly, an odd thought occurred to her: it was Desmond who was here, not Vaughn. She was sick of being confused about him. Did she love him? Was she ready to end it once and for all? Did he still love her? She was sick of waiting to see if it would all figure out. Dammit, she needed what Vaughn wasn't giving her. She looked back up at Desmond and made a final decision.

She turned and straddled him as their mouths connected. He stood up, and they stumbled their way down the hallway to the bedroom, her fingers fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. He pulled her layers of clothing off ravenously, eager to get to the prize. She ripped the belt from his waist, and away went his pants into their messy trail of clothes. And soon they were lost in each other under the covers…

Sydney's eyes slowly blinked open the next morning in a dim light. The clock beside the bed read six AM. She stared down at herself, a white sheet wrapped tightly around her naked body, and she abruptly felt dirty. She wanted to clean away the filth of last night, yet no matter how hard she scrubbed she knew she would not feel clean.

She rolled over and spied Desmond, asleep on his stomach with one arm dangling over the edge of the bed. She rolled onto her back and stared up at the white ceiling. Why did she do this? Last night was a mistake… She felt like she betrayed someone, sleeping with the enemy. But no, she hadn't betrayed anybody. Then why could she only think of her kiss with Vaughn?

She snuck out of bed and made her way down the hall. This couldn't be a total loss, something good had to come of this. But what? Where? How? Now there was a near permanent tie to Desmond that would be hard to break. _Why_? She mentally bashed herself, _Why?_ What on earth made her think this was ever a good idea? Perhaps she'd had more to drink than she thought. No, no, she had been quite sober when she decided. Oh, what good could possibly come from this?

And then she spotted his lap top.

She cocked her head back towards the bedroom and heard Desmond lightly snoring. Excellent. She flipped it open and waited as it came out of sleep mode. She urged it to go faster in her head. Realizing she didn't have much time, she hurried to her purse and pulled out a device that would copy his hard drive for the CIA and also enable them to view any activity he may partake in computer-wise. How she wished she could read through his files now, but he could feel Sydney's loss at any moment and come looking for her.

_Hurry_, she exhorted the computer, tapping her fingers silently against her thigh. She kept glancing at the bedroom, making sure everything was all right. Finally it finished duplicating and she unplugged the device and hid it back in her purse by the door.

A sudden floorboard creaked in the distance– Desmond! She shut the computer and looked around franticly. Kitchen, living room, bathroom, closet… Bathroom! She threw herself into the room and closed the door; she flushed the toilet and ran the faucet for a few seconds. She sighed in relief, leaning against the counter as she waited for another second.

Gaining composure, she walked out of the bathroom and acted slightly surprised to see Desmond outside staring at her. She opened her mouth but closed it again. "Morning, beautiful," he stated. She kept quiet, walking towards him. He gathered her into his arms and kissed her forehead. "I woke up and you were gone..."

"I was right here," she whispered.

"You were right here." He stroked her exposed back, his fingers trailing down her spine and around the edge of the sheet. "I know it's early, but I'll make us some breakfast. Why don't you go wait in bed?"

She nodded, and felt a chill as his warm body pulled away from her. She slowly meandered back to the bedroom, grabbing articles of clothing on her way. She got dressed again and threw the sheet against the headboard. She'd have to make it through breakfast, but all she wanted to do was leave. Vaughn had kissed her weeks ago, and she only felt confusion then, but now it was clear what she felt. What had she done?

– – – – – – – 

Sydney met with Kerri later that day for coffee in the mid-afternoon. They chatted for a while about opening night and the reviews. All stated how well the classic had been redone, and glorified the casting choices and acting, mentioning Sophia, Chris, and Desmond among others. But they quickly moved on to the subject of Kerri's party. "So," Kerri began, her eyes turning mischievous, "I saw you leave with Desmond."

Sydney hesitated. "Mm, yeah. We went to his place."

Kerri looked like she was about to explode with coffee springing from her ears. "Did you…" She raised her eyebrows. Sydney nodded gently, taking another sip of coffee. Did she have to talk about this already? Kerri, unaware of Sydney's regret, squealed in delight. "Well, I for one, am glad you're finally getting over that bastard who broke your heart."

Sydney plastered on a fake grin. All she could think about was "that bastard" and his superb kissing skills. Jesus, it was only one kiss– sort of. What about all the other real kisses last night? She sighed lightly, drinking more coffee to relax her nerves. Somehow she was getting more confused than before. It was clear what she wanted, but confused about what would happen in the future.

Kerri continued about the party. "Nick Chesaning is such a partier." Sydney laughed. "He was one of the ten people who crashed for the night. All eleven of us had massive hangovers, by the way." Thinking of drunken Weiss helped calm and distract Sydney, he always could. But Kerri wasn't done. "Oh, and guess what couple came to the party and left separately? Just guess. Chris and Denise! What do you think, trouble in paradise?"

Sydney nearly spat her coffee over the table, but restrained herself and swallowed. "I really wouldn't know." she answered. Vaughn and Lauren left separately? Maybe it was something to do with the mission. No, it couldn't be, Dixon would have told her too.

Sydney swore to herself. What if Lauren and Vaughn were actually having problems? They hadn't talked at all at the Christmas party. And they hadn't even left the party together last night. She set the empty coffee mug onto the table with a clank. Desmond had been a huge mistake; it was Vaughn that she loved. But now that she'd slept with Desmond, could Vaughn ever again love her back?

A/n:smiles sheepishly: Hi, don't kill me. Look over there- it's Desmond! Go kill him! Go, go:makes a mad dash for it as you look away: Okay, seriously, I know you couldn't possibly be terribly pleased with a certain, um, event, but I guarantee it will get better! Please review for me anyway, and feel free to bash Desmond all you want! I still love you guys and I still love VSR, I promise!


	9. But Not For Me

Chapter 9: But Not For Me

A/n: Hey guys, thanks a bunch for your reviews! Enjoy Chapter 9!

It started off so swell, this "let's pretend." It all began so well, but what an end! The climax of a plot should be the marriage knot, but there's no knot for me.

Two weeks of nearly perfect performances passed by rapidly for everyone, agents and actors alike. For Sydney, that was another two weeks of real kisses, very few mistakes, and lot of remembering that flat in 'I Got Rhythm.' For everyone, that was two weeks of working under full houses or near full houses, which surprised Sydney considering it was off Broadway.

It was now the beginning of the last week of shows. Just to make sure no one got rusty over a few days' break, Damien Bruggman suggested that everyone come in and lightly run through some dance numbers. And with only a suggestion, about half of the cast showed up to "work."

Sydney and Vaughn were among them, so was Carrie Flinkman. The three stood backstage working on a microphone problem Vaughn had come across during the last performance. Sydney stood uncomfortably next to Vaughn, who was focused on Carrie fiddling away with the wires.

It was hard for Sydney to remember, for some reason, that Vaughn didn't know about her escapades with Desmond. Should he know? Would he think that Sydney was moving on for good? Would he stop kissing her so wonderfully each night? Yet there was only one more week left…

Suddenly Carrie dropped her pliers and the microphones, grabbing her stomach and bending over slightly. "Marie," Sydney asked, remembering to use her alias, "are you okay?"

"I'm fine, _Sophia_," she snapped back in obvious pain. "It's just these damn contractions."

Vaughn furrowed his brow at her. "Um, do we need to get you to a hospital?"

"No, no, they're just Braxton Hicks, I've been having them for a few months now. Don't worry about it." She smiled, picking up the wires again and inspecting them more closely as she straightened. Sydney sighed to herself, watching Vaughn as he stared at Carrie with concern. And before Sydney– or Carrie, really– knew it, there was a puddle beneath Carrie's feet. Her face contorted. "That would be my water breaking."

At first, they all were silent and still, their minds abruptly running blank. Then Vaughn's eyes widened once the idea settled in. "Okay, a hospital it is. Sy- Sophia, why don't you go get our coats, I'll start walking her out to the door."

Sydney nodded eagerly and hurriedly collected their coats. As she hustled to the door, she bumped into her father. "There's a wet spot backstage," she warned to him before reaching the door, where Carrie had stopped in another contraction. "Breathe, breathe," she reminded her while Vaughn hailed a taxi.

"Call Marshall," Carrie gritted through her teeth. Sydney tugged at her arm and led her into the backseat of the yellow car.

Vaughn sat up front next to the driver and whipped out his cell phone. "Is he at home?"

"No, Philadelphia."

Vaughn turned back and glance at Sydney; she shrugged. His eyes widened like before. "Why?" he asked slowly, observably confused why he would leave his nine-month-pregnant wife who was ready to pop at any given moment.

"Because the CIA… "she looked at the taxi driver and deemed him unsuitable for such knowledge. "They needed him there for computer stuff, he's the only one who knows the system- Ah!" She squeezed Sydney's hand.

Through the ride. Vaughn kept trying Marshall's cell phone while Sydney tried to calm Carrie. "Can we get there just a little faster?" Carrie asked the driver. "Maybe? JUST A LITTLE FASTER?"

Sydney tried to calm her more, to little avail. "Don't worry, ma'am, I've delivered two babies in my taxi, both very healthy little girls."

Carrie grunted loudly in the midst of a contraction. "Somehow I don't think that's what she wanted to hear," Vaughn commented.

A few contractions later, they arrived at the hospital with the baby still in Carrie's uterus. Unfortunately, Vaughn was unable to reach Marshall. He kept calling, but Marshall never answered. Sydney helped Carrie get a room and settled in her bed. Vaughn angrily punched the numbers on the phone. "Carrie, he's just not answering his phone."

"Well then leave a damn voicemail!"

He held the phone to his ear. "Okay, sh… Hey, Marshall, it's Vaughn, your wife's gone into labor, and–"

Carrie snatched the phone from his hand. "Marshall Flinkman, you get the hell over here!" she screamed into the phone, holding it upside-down in her palm.

Vaughn grabbed his phone back. "Hurry… Please hurry."

After a while, Carrie begged for an epidural and eventually fell asleep. That was when Sydney and Vaughn sagged into two visitor chairs nearby Carrie's bed, and Sydney finally had a moment to think. She and Vaughn, together at the hospital with Carrie. This certainly wasn't anything she had planned, but she was glad that it was Vaughn she was with. He was smart, and he could work under the pressure of a woman in labor. However, part of her wished it wasn't him. It brought her back to Desmond, which brought her back to her confusion…

Vaughn rubbed his eyes. "How many centimeters did the nurse say she was dilated?" he whispered.

"Five," she whispered back.

He glanced at Carrie sleeping. "Come on, let's get out of here and let her sleep." Sydney nodded and followed him out of the room into the slightly noisier hallway. At first, they wandered slowly, unsure of what to do. How long had it been since they were just together hanging out? Sydney thought back to Thanksgiving when he came over after Lauren's fight.

"So," Vaughn began, breaking the comfortable silence, "can you believe there's only one more week of the musical?"

"No, it's gone by so quickly." She checked around the hallway for anyone, it was clear. "How many names have we collected so far?"

"At least twelve, maybe more. The planted microphones really helped. The last show… We're going to get them." Sydney nodded confidently. She wanted to go back to LA, get away from Desmond, get away from the new confusion created here. "You've, uh, been doing a fantastic job as Polly."

"Only because you're such a great Bobby," she smiled back at him. They stopped walking for a moment, simply smiling. But their smiles faded eventually, and they stood frozen in the middle of a hospital hallway. "It's been a while since we've talked," she admitted. "I mean, really talked." He didn't respond, and she found him studying wall behind her intently. "How are you?" she asked with solemnity.

He laughed lightly in response. "I've been better." His eyes darted from the wall to Sydney a few times before landing on Sydney. "Lauren and I have been fighting a lot lately."

"Is it…" She paused, refraining herself from finishing the question. Was it her? Was she the cause of their fights, like at Thanksgiving?

Vaughn seemed to understand what she wanted to ask anyway. "Sometimes," he answered quietly. "It's anything, really. But we're… We're working on it." An awkward pause settled in. Sydney couldn't determine her feelings on his news. "How are you?" he finally asked, noticing the awkwardness settling in.

Now Sydney laughed weakly. Where should she start? The misery, pain, confusion? How she was still in love with Vaughn? How she wanted to give up on him and at the same time try to win him back? "I slept with Desmond."

"You what?"

Shit. Oh shit. No, that was not supposed to happen! Did she really just tell him? "I… I slept with him." He had to know it wasn't because she had feelings for him; she didn't. He had to know the truth. He had to know she planted a tracker on his lap top…

He was stoic. "When?"

"After opening night." Vaughn looked sickened. "Vaughn, listen, it wasn't–"

"This was because Dixon told you to get closer? Don't you think that might be taking it a little far?"

She stared at him aghast. "Who are you to tell me how I should work? I think I know how to handle myself when Dixon gives me assignments."

"But that wasn't an assignment."

"And what if it was? What would you say then?"

"I'd say it was too dangerous, hell, he could be the Black Russian!"

She shook her head, wanting to laugh at him. "That wasn't the point…"

"No," he continued. "This… I…"

"Listen," she tried again, "in the morning I–"

"I don't want to hear what you did in the damn morning! What were you thinking? Desmond Tamas?"

He didn't understand, and it was evident that he didn't want to know. She stared back at him, fuming. "I was thinking maybe I could get a good one night stand!" she replied harshly, storming off into a series of hallways away from him. She marched down the hallway, a sour taste forming at her lips. If he did not want to listen to what she had to say, then she was not going to stay and talk to him.

He could have at least let her explain! He could have been understanding about it. But no. Obviously he didn't care about the truth. She didn't need him, she didn't want him. Dammit, why couldn't she stop loving him?

She made her way down an unfamiliar hall, finding herself outside the nursery. Her cheeks stung as she held back tears; she stared at the newborn faces behind the glass. She lifted her fingers to the barrier and peered inside. All this new, young life, problem and care free, no badness or dark places yet, all they knew was good and innocence…

They were all so calm, it soothed Sydney in her pain. So she slept with Desmond, and Vaughn knew. Vaughn and Lauren were having problems that they were working out. And there was only a week left before they returned to Los Angeles. Sydney sorted through everything in her head. Nothing made sense, she didn't know what she wanted anymore. She wished she had her old apartment, and that she could talk with Francie and Will and not have to worry about anything, or anyone, related to the CIA.

She felt him walk up next to her, yet they didn't acknowledge each other. It reminded her of the old days, when they met in public. Before SD-6 fell, before they kissed in its rubble, before she was taken for two years…

He closed his eyes. "I'm sorry for earlier… It's your life, and you know what you're doing. And… I'm glad you're moving on."

Sydney sighed. She wished he didn't have to think that. She wished he could know everything in immaculate detail how she felt: disgusted with herself, regretful, how it was Vaughn she longed for…

"I planted a device on his computer," she whispered to the babies. "If he is related to Omega, his computer will tell us."

"Syd." He turned to face her, and she reluctantly followed suit. She half-expected him to kiss her right there, she couldn't fight her lips lifting up… But Vaughn remained still. "I'm _really_ sorry. I don't mean to be an ass, I know you can defend yourself and take anyone down, myself included." She chuckled. "But I just get worried. If you can't already tell, I don't really like Desmond."

She studied his furrowed brow; two deep ravines parallel to his hairline, wrinkling into streams flowing to his temples. His words reverberated through her mind. And the more she contemplated, a smile curled at her lips. "You know what? I don't really like him either." Her smile continued to grow until an effluence of laughter spilled into the hallway. At witnessing her sudden delight, he couldn't help but join in the outburst, and he draped his arm around her back as they walked back towards Carrie's room.

Unfortunately, upon arrival Carrie had woken, and they were bombarded with frustrated screams and cries of discomfort. So they felt it was best to wait outside. Sydney felt a new ease slip between them as their conversation perpetuated. Their relaxed state was something Sydney had missed dearly, but a chagrin grew deep in her mind. When they returned to LA would they be friends? She'd have to move on.

Could she do that? Could she be his friend, see him everyday, forget the feelings they once shared and move on? Maybe the reason she couldn't move on from him was because of that- seeing him every day and being reminded of what she lost. It had been five months since her return. Five! And still her heart argued with her brain.

She decided she'd wait until they got home; if she could move on despite their marriage, then great, but if incapability reigned supreme, then she would request a transfer. A transfer, she squirmed at the sound. But if that was what it took to be truly happy again… She was willing to go all out.

"Maybe one of us should go check on Carrie… I mean, we really shouldn't leave her all alone through this, even though she shrieked 'get out' at the top of her lungs."

"I'll go," Sydney volunteered.

"Good, because I think she's plotting to dismember any man she sees now that her epidural has worn off…"

Sydney rose from her seat, her feet tingling as the blood flowed back through her veins. Gingerly, she nudged the door open. "Carrie?" she asked calmly, stepping inside. "How are you feeling?"

She pressed her head harder against the pillow as Sydney approached the bed. "Like a constipated manatee. You?" She grabbed for Sydney's hand as another contraction started. Luckily for Sydney's hand, it was short, and Carrie quickly relaxed back into the bed. "Do you think Marshall will get here soon? He was supposed to come back today. I'll kill him if he misses this."

"He'll get here. You know him, he's probably called the hospital and downloaded all your stats into his computer."

Sydney was relieved when Carrie finally smiled. "Okay. You can bring Vaughn in here, I won't hurt him."

Sydney retrieved Vaughn (who sheepishly stayed in one of the seats out of Carrie's reach) and they commenced their chatter. Sydney helped Carrie through the occasional contraction, but eventually "it was time" and the pair was booted from the room. They had been outside the room for a few minutes when Marshall came running down the hall.

"Sydney, Vaughn, oh I'm so glad you're here! See, I went to the wrong hospital at first, and I was like, 'Where's Carrie?' and they said she wasn't there, so I said, 'What do you mean she's not here? Was is a false alarm, d-did she have the baby and leave?'"

"Marshall!"

"Right, where is she?"

Vaughn elbowed the door open and Marshall rushed inside. They could hear the wails of a tiny newborn infant waft through the air as the door swung to a close. Vaughn raised his eyebrows to Sydney, and they both leaned in and pressed their eyes to the rectangular glass window in the door.

His shoulder pressed against her back, but for once, she didn't notice. A small, blue bundle occupied her vision; Carrie held him so tenderly in her arms, staring down at him with tears in her eyes. Marshall stood with one arm clinging around his wife's shoulders, his other outstretched to stroke his son's cheek with one finger.

Sydney glanced up at Vaughn; she could see the longing in his eyes. She knew that had Vaughn glanced down at herself he would spy the same thing. The truth was, Sydney wanted precisely what the Flinkmans had in the room before her, but she wanted it with Vaughn. And she knew she could have it only with Vaughn.

A/n: I know this chapter was kind of short, but there was tons of randomness I deleted. I wish this was a DVD and I could add special features with like deleted scenes and behind the scenes extras. Yeah, I think about weird stuff like that. Hey, guess what: there's only three more chapters left! I know. Eeek, what's going to happen? (Bottom line: I know, you don't. Mwahaha!)


	10. Finale, Part I

Chapter 10: Finale, Part I

A/n: Mwahahaha, yes, I'm pulling out the two parter.

,i.Let me give you the low down: I'm k-ra-zy for you! When it comes to a showdown– I'm k-ra-zy for you./i.

Sydney paced in her dressing room, her nerves unsettled. Forcing herself to sit down, she wrung her hands over her lap. Finale night; it modeled the feeling of opening night. Yet Sydney's nerves jumbled for a different reason than a nervous atmosphere. Tonight she felt anxious. Impatience stirred the butterflies in her stomach.

She could no longer maintain a seated position; she stood. Her pacing resumed immediately. She tried reminding herself to concentrate on the play. Go over the dance steps, hum the songs, rehearse the lines… Her mind replayed the meeting held this afternoon, however.

Flashback 

All the agents filed in conveniently within a ten minute timeframe to their usual meeting room. Sydney took a seat in the far corner, next to Weiss, and watched Dixon as he waited calmly for everyone to take their seats.

_Finale night_, Sydney repeated silently to herself. She knew why this meeting had been called. As the night came to a close, the CIA needed to capture those involved with Omega. Tonight was the night they had been waiting for throughout the entire mission. It was the most important part of the mission. It meant everything.

Studying Dixon further, she saw contained excitement. He too was eager to bring the group to justice. Sydney scanned the rest of the group as they entered, and it became apparent they all held the same penned energy.

She watched as Marshall was the last to arrive one agent short. Carrie. Home with the baby, no doubt. Dixon stood and cleared his throat, a flash of a smile escaping his lips. He stepped forward slowly, anticipation building in everyone. As he stopped, her eyes settled on the figure of Jack Bristow on Dixon's opposite side. She recalled his conversation, warning her to stay careful around Desmond. She had asked him what happened during her missing years.

A new realization hit her: had Omega possibly taken her? Before her return, she had never heard of them. But at her return, they had established themselves as a well known terrorist group. It was quite possible they had taken her.

Rage steamed her insides, yearning to escape. She glanced at the other agents again. No one had the same psyche as her, not the same vengeance. She was positive they had taken her. And as she looked at her father, something told her he knew.

"Well," Dixon began, taking a moment to catch everyone's eye, "we've been in New York for three months. We've planted microphones, and we've monitored behavior. We've collected names. But we have had to wait for the opportunity to strike without disturbing the public.

"Tonight is the final show of the musical. We will make our arrests shortly following the curtain's last drop. Are you all aware of the reception Mr. Bruggman is throwing after the show?"

"The shindig at Sardi's," Weiss answered.

"Correct. Mr. Bruggman has rented the back room for the evening. We have a team from the local CIA branch assisting. A few will linger around the front and back entrances, and others will be planted inside the facility." He returned to his seat and picked up a folder, pulling out a stack of papers. "This is the list of names we now have. There are fourteen." He passed out the list to each agents. "If any manage to pass through the doors, I encourage you to lead them to our team."

Dixon let out a slow breath. "With that said, actors: break a leg. And agents: good luck."

Sydney darted to her father as everyone left. "I need a word with you," she demanded as calmly as she could.

"As do I." She raised her eyebrow as she followed him into the next room, the one he had warned her in before.

What could he have to say to her? She didn't care. As soon as he turned to face her she exploded. "You know what happened to me those two years, don't you? You have this while time! I was with Omega, admit it," she spat harshly.

He paused as she gave him the deadly Bristow glare. "You are partly correct yet partly wrong. And I suggest you listen to me before you continue to make assumptions." She breathed heavily for a moment, reaping in his words. Finally she gave a nod of consent. "Dixon told me you planted the device on Desmond's laptop; I offered to oversee the project. There hadn't been any recent developments of interest, that is, until early this morning.

"Sydney, I assure you, I did not know of your location during your disappearance. I had speculations of Omega, but there was no way to know for sure. However, the intel this morning confirmed that Omega had taken you hostage."

"So if Desmond's computer knew, that means…" Sydney couldn't complete the statement.

"It means that Desmond Tamas is part of the terrorist group."

Sydney stood in utter silence, the room's atmosphere caused her to shiver. She had suspected his involvement for a while, they all had, but knowing it for sure? It still came as a shock somehow. But now that she had sipped the from the bittersweet chalice of knowledge, she grew thirsty for more. "Dad, what else did we receive?"

"There was no further details of why they took you," he replied as if reading her thoughts. "Only indications that they possessed you for a significant amount of time." He snarled at the word "possessed," and Sydney took note of his anger. He wanted to take Omega just as badly as she did. She wanted to catch Desmond, to see him at his defeat, to gaze upon his cowering form with a smile to her lips. Jack continued, "I also came across a file that listed at least six others involved with the organization. I have yet to tell Dixon."

"Why haven't you? If there are people the CIA doesn't know about, then Dixon needs to be informed–"

"I plan to," he cut her off. "But I chose to tell you first and foremost because I was sure you'd want to be the one to capture Desmond." _You're damn right_, Sydney thought. "I've come up with a plan, but you won't be able to do it alone."

"I'll do anything."

End Flashback 

How much longer until show time? It felt like she had gotten dressed and applied her make-up eons ago. The sooner they could begin, the more quickly the Finale would come. And then, she couldn't help but smile, they would arrest that lying, seducing bastard…

A knock on the door startled her out of her entranced state of fury. She noticed her clenched fists and released them as she opened the door. Weiss stood impatiently in her doorway, letting himself inside the room quickly. Sydney shut the door and looked at him expectantly. "He'll do it," he finally revealed, sending a wave of relief through Sydney. "Now, will someone please tell me, who is 'he' and what is 'it?'"

Sydney smiled, this time of happiness and not of twisted delight. After the conversation with her father, Jack had gone to talk with Dixon. Dixon had thankfully sanctioned the plan for Sydney to get Desmond, and Jack was conveying the message through Weiss. "You'll see," she answered him with a wink.

"Whatever, Bristow," he answered, scratching his head. His hand paused abruptly on the back of his head as his eyes squinted in confusion. His lips parted slowly as realization dawned on him. "I forgot my cowboy hat, shit!" he said, racing toward the door. Jerking out into the hall and around the corner, he hollered, "See you, Soph!"

She shook her hands loosely in the air and cleared her throat. Checking her reflection one last time in the mirror, she adjusted her freshly curled and dyed hair and strutted across the hallway backstage. She struggled to keep herself calm; an enormous jittery feeling sweeping through her body. She couldn't help but smile as the curtain's separated and the magic all began. It was difficult to take in, it was really their last night.

The scenes passed slowly, sometimes to Sydney's delight but also to her dismay. She wanted the acting to never end, she wanted to sing and dance on that stage without any worries. Everything had become so natural and comfortable: lines came easily like everyday dialogue, and dance steps felt like a summer's stroll. She knew she would never forget the feeling of losing herself in the acting.

But she also felt a fervent urge for the Finale to dazzle one last time. She couldn't wait to arrest everyone and go home…

She tried and succeeded in forgetting her feelings, allowing herself to escape to another world where she was Polly. But when the "Embraceable You" scene came around, Sydney couldn't help but notice a difference. She felt herself relaxing more against Vaughn as they danced, his hold on her more secure and strong than before.

She thought about it through the remainder of the first act, hurrying to her dressing room after the end of "I Got Rhythm." She sighed as she reached it: no more first acts.

After quickly changing and fixing her hair and makeup, she heard a knock on her door. She was reflecting on the first act, thinking she noticed some underlying hostility between Vaughn and Lauren. "Come in," she said loudly, waiting for the door to open. She was rather surprised to see Vaughn's head sneak in through a crack, followed by his muscular body before he closed the door behind him. Speak of the devil, er, guardian angel. "Hey," she greeted him, unsure of his intentions.

"I want you to know that I'm going to help you after the show… To get Desmond." He stayed leaning against the door, his eyes wandering around the room. They hesitated to rest on Sydney.

"Really?" she asked in disbelief. "Did Dixon ask you?"

He finally met her gaze. A warmth exuded inside her, yet she resisted. She reminded herself that she was getting over him; when back in LA she'd do it once and for all. "No, actually, your father did."

_My father?_ "Oh… Well, thank-you. It means a lot to me that you're willing to help." Their eyes locked for a moment, and Vaughn finally gained balance and took a step forward. "We better get back out there soon."

"Yeah," he vaguely agreed, stepping forward some more. He smiled faintly, and she smiled back in reply. Sydney in turn stepped closer to him, though moving towards the door. "Wait," he said, his fingers pressing into her shoulder as she passed him. "Before we go out there, there's something I have to do. Two and half years ago, I lost you. And I never thought I'd get you back. I mean, you died. But you're Sydney Bristow, after all, you even escaped death.

"I can't begin to imagine how hard it must have been for you when you came back; everything you knew was gone or different. It was different for me too. There were things I couldn't do that I've wanted to for two and a half years, but that's about to change.

"Sydney, I need you to know that…" he shrugged at a loss of words. "I'm crazy for you!" he exclaimed with a light chuckle.

"Vaughn–"

"You need to know that I still love you. And that I've missed you, I've missed you so much." He lifted his hand and cupped her cheek, simply staring at each detail on her face. She closed her eyes for a moment against him. What was going on? Why was he doing this? He was married! What did he mean things were about to change?

Suddenly his lips were closing in on hers, and she felt the soft tips of his fingers slide down her skin and around to the back of her neck. Just as his lips had barely swept over hers she pulled away to the door.

"No, no," she shook her head, breathing heavily, her heart racing, "you're married! We can't do this, _I_ can't do this!"

He smiled in response. Smiled! The mouth that could give her such pleasure could torment her so! "You don't understand–"

"That's right, I don't."

He opened his mouth to speak again, but she twisted the doorknob behind her back and flung open the door, exposing them to nearly the entire cast, backstage or on their way. He stood with his shoulders slumped staring at Sydney under furrowed brow. And that was how she left him, still standing in her dressing room, as she backed away to the stage.

She felt him watching her offstage during Weiss's song, opening Act Two. What was going on? Vaughn was a loyal husband, and she… She respected his marriage, albeit her hatred for it. She couldn't imagine being the other woman in an affair, she couldn't even imagine Vaughn having an affair.

Please, would someone tell her what was happening?

"They Can't Take That Away From Me" came too soon for Sydney. Normally, this was her favorite scene of the whole musical, but now, she dreaded it. Vaughn was probably mad at her for reacting as she had, and the emotions would feel forced and ruined.

However, she as wrong. Vaughn sang with more emotion than he ever had; his voice real, and heartfelt. She realized he wasn't Bobby singing to Polly. He wasn't Chris singing to Sophia. He was just Michael Vaughn pouring his heart out to Sydney, and it brought tears to her eyes. They glistened as the stage darkened and she sang "But Not For Me."

She felt dark and depressed for the following scenes. How she had the strength to reject Vaughn, she didn't know. She supposed that meant she had moved on. And that thought alone made her want to cry.

The Finale scene finally arrived, yet somehow Sydney lacked her prior excitement. When she heard Kerri begin to sing, she escaped into her dressing room for a record-breaking costume change. Since opening night, she had become Super Sydney: able to change clothes faster than a speeding bullet. She now had time to spare before her cue.

"Syd, please, you have to hear me out," Vaughn whispered to her backstage. She remained silent. "I was stupid, I should have made it clear from when I walked in there… Lauren and I are officially divorced."

"What?"

She almost forgot to keep her voice down. "Sh, sh." He glanced briefly on stage, since the darkness hindered his view of Sydney's facial expression. "We're on in a second, I have to go around to the other side." He turned to look at her as he walked away. "Just… you know how I feel."

Sydney stood speechless until she heaved herself on the stage. "'You wanna dance, Bobby?'"

"'Who could ask for anything more?'"

He wrapped her arms around her, checking her gaze before moving in to kiss her. She gave him a slight nod as she moved in, hungry for his taste. All their other kisses from other nights didn't matter, they were nothing, petty stage kisses. This was more real than any of them. They held nothing back and let themselves get lost in each other, finally free to be themselves, how they used to be together.

Sydney danced and sang for the last time, all while trying to make sense of everything in her head. When did they get divorced? Did Vaughn really think she wouldn't go back to him? Would she go back to him? Yes! She wanted to! It was true, things would be different between them, but essentially, she'd be with him. And that was all she needed.

And finally, she stood between Vaughn and Desmond, squeezing Vaughn's hand at her right and holding Desmond's limply at her left. They looked out to standing audience before them and bowed. Sydney couldn't help but smile.

When the curtain closed for good, Sydney reluctantly gave Desmond a half hug– never letting go of Vaughn's hand –and told him she'd meet him in his dressing room. She made sure he walked off stage before turning to Vaughn to hug him, congratulating him on tonight's performance. Others still chatted on the stage, unable to believe it was the last night.

"So," Vaughn began, "we're… You and I…"

Sydney simply nodded. "Yeah," she answered, feeling the same nervous happiness as he felt. They turned to slowly make their way to their dressing rooms. "But we can't just pick up where we left off… I'm not going to pretend like Lauren never happened."

"I know. We'll figure it out."

They parted paths at Sydney's dressing room, but she knew they'd meet again shortly. Sydney changed quickly and headed over to Desmond's dressing room, going over the plan in her head. As soon as Desmond was ready, they'd walk through the empty halls to the back parking lot, where she would strike and Vaughn would help her whisk him away and into prison.

She slipped into his room. "Desmond?" she called.

"I'm just changing, I'll be out soon."

Sydney sat down on his couch and looked around. How come his dressing room was bigger than hers? "So are you excited for Sardi's tonight?" she asked, hoping conversation would make this seem faster.

"Oh yeah, I'm ready for a drink."

"Me too."

"Actually, I could really go for a… Black Russian."

Sydney remembered back on Sophia's birthday, right after Dixon called with news of Omega's new leader, Weiss talked about how it was also the name of a drink. Her head slowly turned to look at the walk-in closet door, where he was changing inside. Suddenly, she couldn't hear any rustling of clothes.

And then she froze on the couch. _He knows…_

She needed a new plan. She didn't have time to lead him out to the parking lot. Silently, she stood up, slowly drawing the gun concealed in her purse. She held it out in front of her, ready to kick the door open and take him by surprise.

She leaned her eye against the slight opening between the door and the frame, scanning for his figure. She lifted her foot to kick the door, but a solid object collided with her head from behind, and her gun bounced off the door and to the ground. Sydney collapsed, narrowly missing a table, and saw Desmond walk calmly out of the closet to stand over her weakened body. She couldn't catch a glimpse of who had struck her, but she did see Desmond's smirking face before everything went black.

A/n: Mwahahahaha.

I am evil. And I love it. Please review!


	11. Finale, Part II

**Chapter 11: Finale, Part II**

A/n:At last, the much awaited for Part II. Enjoy!

When Sydney came to, she felt restrained in a sitting position. Her eyes were trapped on her lap for a few moments before she regained the strength to lift her neck. Her ankles were trussed to the chair legs, her wrists to the sides, and her torso around the back. _Not a problem_, she thought, _I've done this before_. Then she noticed the chair was bolted to the floor.

The room was cold; her fingertips felt numb against her palms. Her feet froze to the icy floor, Desmond had apparently removed her shoes. He must have known about her killer roundhouse kick. Ten times more painful with shoes. Forty-seven times more painful with heels.

She looked up around the room. Pipes ran every which way through the ceilings and walls, yet no water dripped. No air blew through the vents, and it felt eerily quiet. Her ears rang in the deafening silence, and she cleared her throat to create noise. She assumed they were in the basement of a building, but where? She couldn't read her watch from the angle, but she felt sure only a few hours could have passed.

A door in the left corner of the room was the only possible exit. There were no windows, and no likely hidden passageways behind the pipes. In fact, the room was mostly empty. Sydney took up its center, and in front of her was another chair (not bolted to the floor) and a small table.

Suddenly the door swung open and Sydney felt her body alert to the sound. In swaggered Desmond Tamas, the smirk still not wiped from his face. Sydney planned to wipe it off; wipe it, throw it on the ground, stamp on it, smash it into tiny pieces, bury it, then spit on the ground where she buried it. He didn't bother to close the door, and he grabbed the free chair, swinging it casually in front of him. He finally acquiesced into it, heaving a sarcastic sigh.

"Glad to see you're awake," he said.

"Where the hell are we?"

"We're here to meet the boss."

"Don't play games. I asked you a question."

"And I gave you an answer: you're meeting our boss."

"'Our' boss?"

High heels clicked in the distance, nearing the door. And now here would come the whorey bitch who thought being evil was cool, and Sydney would kick her ass and that would be the end of it. But when the heels clicked their way through the door, all normalcy was crushed under her black stilettos. "K-Kerri?"

She walked up to Desmond and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her hands massaged his chest, leaving Sydney speechless. "What, surprised to see me, Sydney?"

Sydney watched in utter disbelief as the girl she thought was her good friend straddle Desmond's lap. "How do you know my name?" she hissed back, her fists in tight balls at her side.

"There's a lot of things I know," she replied, staring devilishly into Desmond's eyes. "Many of which I discovered a few weeks ago. You see, while you were busy with my dear Desmond," her face lurched forward and she licked his cheek, "I was breaking into your apartment."

"You bitch…"

"And I didn't appreciate the tracker you put on my laptop," Desmond snapped, glaring at her before closing his eyes under Kerri's pleasuring activities. "It was too late before I noticed it, I had downloaded all the documents."

Sydney breathed heavily, her hatred for this man growing by the instant as she was forced to watch Kerri trail kisses up his neck. She hated Kerri even more, oh, God, did this suck. She wriggled her wrists against the ropes, yet they were too tight. This could not be happening. How could Kerri be evil? How could Desmond have kidnapped her? And why the hell had no one found her yet?

Vaughn. He would notice first, since she and Desmond would never walk out into the parking lot as planned. And he would notify Dixon and Jack, and a search would commence. But they should be here by now, right? How much time passed? Damn it.

Kerri swung her legs off of Desmond and rose to her feet. Her red, slinky dress clung to her legs as she prowled, encircling Sydney's chair. The chair had to be bolted to the ground, didn't it? Sydney had no options, incapable of freeing herself from the ropes, the chair, or the room. Helpless was something she rarely felt, and she despised feeling it now. She gulped down her doubt solemnly and held her head high, her eyes focusing on the wall behind Desmond. "All right, you got me. You've tied me up and you got me. What do you want with me?"

Kerri paused directly in her line of vision, leaning over to make sure Sydney could see her. In return, Kerri received a stern glare from Sydney as the former exhaled slowly into the latter's face, her breath smelling faintly of wine. "If we didn't take you now, you'd know too much about your missing years."

Sydney's expression did not falter. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Well," Desmond took over, "we just didn't want you reading misinformation."

"Then tell me what happened."

Kerri leaned back and glanced at Desmond. "I think we should give someone else that opportunity." Desmond stood up, wrapping his arms around her body and inhaling her scent. "Let's go, Desmond."

Sydney bit her tongue as they traipsed away, she felt sick to her stomach. How could this have happened? How could she not known her "best friend" was a traitor? She wanted to cry, but held in it, knowing she could not show weakness.

There _had_ to be a way out. First, she needed to distinguish the time. If she could alter the angle of her watch… She jammed her wrist into her hip and twisted, glad her band was loosely clasped. Her watch rotated slowly as she twisted her wrist, and soon it rested sideways. Using the rope to push it up, she craned her neck forward and read: 12:47. Early morning, she presumed. It had only been about two hours.

How long would they leave her? When would she learn the truth about her missing years? What exactly did Omega do to her…?

No, this couldn't be it. Her questions would be answered. But not before she busted loose from the chair. But how? There really was no way without a knife, or some fire, or a rapid animals that likes to chew on things… Damn. There was no way out. And Desmond was a cheating, lying son of a bitch, and Kerri was an evil traitor bitch whore slut, and she wanted Vaughn so badly.

Of course, that was the story of her life. The very moment when she could have her love back, she was taken away. And Omega would go and pull a Shakespeare and kill her or something, then she would never have him back. _Let them find me soon_, she prayed.

She hesitated abruptly. What was she thinking? She was still Sydney Bristow: Super-Spy. Eventually, she would get out of that chair, and Omega would not kill her. And then, she'd find Desmond and kick his ass. And then she'd move on to Kerri, and she would beat her until she begged for mercy, and then she would return to Vaughn and… Oooh. Those were inspiring thoughts.

She soon lapsed into a restless sleep. She awoke feeling no more rested than before, but there was something new in the room now. Someone new…

When her eyes focused again, she saw Sark standing before her. He poured orange juice into a glass, which sat next to a plate piled with eggs and toast. She raised her eyebrows at him, though he had yet to acknowledge her conscious state. "What the hell?"

"Good morning." He picked up the glass and stepped towards her, pressing the glass to her lips.

Poison. That was how Sark would do it, poisoned orange juice. As he tilted the opening towards her, her initial reaction was to let the liquid spill down her front. However, she noticed the dryness in her throat and felt it best to drink. Screw the poison. It tasted… Like orange juice. _Okay, Mr. Sark, you win this time._

He set the orange juice glass back on the table and proceeded to lift the plate, as well as a fork. Sydney gave him a look that said, "Oh no," and he replied with one of, "Oh yes" quality. He scooped up some scrambled egg on the fork and held it in front of her mouth. She glared up at him, a four-year-old rejecting mom's broccoli. She was hungry, though.

"So where are the minions? Shouldn't they be doing the dirty work for you?"

He forced the fork through her mouth anyway. She reluctantly chewed. "They were much too busy last night to be awake– or clothed ­–at this time."

That stung. Had her arms not been tied down, she would have flipped the plate into his lap. But as much as she hated it, she felt starved, not having eaten dinner last night. She managed to allow Sark to feed her, and she perhaps despised him more now that she ever did. Sydney Bristow was no baby, and he knew that.

Finally she couldn't stand his guiding the fork back and forth from the plate to her mouth. "I'm full," she croaked. Hunger still pained her, yet Sark feeding her made her feel sick. He cocked his head at her but set the plate back on the table.

"Fair enough," he muttered, taking a seat across from her instead of leaving.

This frustrated her further. "Are you here to tell me about what happened during those years?"

He did not react to her question; he studied her feet. "You remember Rambaldi's Prophecy?" he retorted with a question, looking back to her eyes.

She recited, "The woman here depicted will possess unseen marks. Signs that she will be the one to bring forth my works...bind them with fury; a burning anger. Unless prevented, at vulgar cost, this woman will render the greatest power unto utter desolation. This woman, without pretense, will have had her effect, never having seen the beauty of my sky, behind Mount Subasio. Perhaps a single glance would have quelled her fire."

"Your mother wasn't lying to you about it, Sydney. It is you in the picture."

"What did you do to me?" she asked through gritted teeth, desperate for an answer.

He remained calm. "Not I, Sydney. My boss."

"You aren't the Black Russian, then?"

He shook his head, chuckling slightly. "It's just like history is repeating itself…" Confusion settled in. What was he talking about, history? She eyed a presence in the doorway and glanced over: Irina.

Taipei. Strapped to a chair. Damn Sark. Damn Irina. Damn them all.

It came as no shock to Sydney. After all that had happened and what she had seen, Irina was no surprise, because all along Sydney knew. She knew. Somehow, she just did. And she should have known her mother was the only one evil enough.

Sark picked up the half empty plate and glass, his blue eyes twinkling like icicles glistening under the powerful sun. Irina stepped aside, allowing her partner in crime to leave. She closed the door, like it made a difference.

Sydney refused to look at her; the thousands of brass pipes were much more interesting, kind, motherly. The pipes wouldn't break into your apartment and slam your head into hard wood. And the wouldn't have betrayed you years and more years ago.

"We found you unconscious," Irina began, edging closer, "smashed against the wall. Allison had far too much blood loss to revive her. So we took you, and set fire to your apartment." Sydney pressed her feet hard into the ground, an attempt in vain to back away from her nearing mother. "Nursing you back to health wasn't hard, you always were strong. But truly, the reason you survived was because Rambaldi had not intended for you to die yet."

"Stop," she threatened. She'd heard enough.

Irina persevered. "When Arvin traveled to the Himalayas, he received an encoded manuscript. The decoding phase was difficult, Rambaldi used several codes on the single scroll. It took us two and half years to decode those messages properly. And two years ago we discovered we needed your blood.

"Look in my eyes!" she demanded, startling Sydney. She stared wide-eyed at her mother for a moment as Irina continued. "We performed our procedures, hoping to decipher the remaining text quickly, and we erased your memory and dumped you in Taipei." Sydney took in her words, but remained focused on Irina's eyes. Morse. She was blinking in Morse. Short short, short long long, short long, long short, long, long, long long long. "However, there were a few places we translated incorrectly." Short short short short, short, short long short short, short long long short. "And we don't need your blood…" long short long long, long long long, short short long. "But your body." I-W-A-N-T-T-O-H-E-L-P-Y-O-U. I want to help you.

"What does that mean?" Short short short short, long long long, short long long. How?

"It means the Di Regno heart will be arriving today." Short long short short, short long, long, short, short long short. Later.

Wait. The Di Regno heart? As in the heart of Protero Di Regno, whose DNA matched that of a Rambaldi sketch? As in the heart stolen by Sloane shortly before Sydney's disappearance?

Irina's expression remained stoic as she promptly turned and left. Sydney did not bother to stop her. She couldn't believe her, could she? Everything told Sydney not to, but what could she do? She wasn't in any position where Irina could betray her– not yet anyway. But she felt mostly concerned about the heart. And how they needed more than her blood, her body… Oh shit. She could only hope that her coworkers arrived before the heart did.

They left her alone the remainder of the day. The silence nearly drove her crazy. She slept on and off, and when not sleeping, she attempted wriggling free of the binding ropes at her wrists. However, she succeeded in only rope burns.

Where was the CIA? She heard no outside noises of guns or fighting throughout the day. She glanced impatiently at her watch, it was late afternoon. Her stomach growled of hunger, yet nothing existed to satisfy her.

The door slammed open, and a dark, evil man stepped into the room smiling at Sydney. She snarled at him. "Sloane," she muttered.

He rubbed his uneven, over-grown stubble and stopped in front of her. She noticed that he held in his left hand two things: a vial, and a syringe… Irina followed him into the room closely, looking equally as villainous. And Sydney knew, Irina had played her once again.

Sydney bit her tongue as she watched him set the objects onto the table. The taste of blood was eminent in her mouth. She couldn't look at her mother, she couldn't look at the bastard himself, she could only stare at the vial on the table. A small, circular bottle filled with a mysterious liquid; a deep purple fluid they would soon inject into her.

She just wanted to laugh. After everything she had been through– the loss of two years of her life, the torture of watching Vaughn with another woman, the betrayal of several people during her life– this is how it would end. "So where's the heart?" she asked, her blood suddenly tasting refreshing.

"Sark just made contact minutes ago. He told us to make our preparations."

As Sloane sat down, Irina moved towards her daughter and pulled up her sleeve; Sydney's body pulled away from her as far as possible. "Why are you doing this to me?" she asked Sloane, then turned to her mother. "And how can you be in charge of all this?"

Sloane shoved the needle into the vial; a purple line slowly rose into the glass cylinder. "Because, Sydney," he said, "you can render greater power than imaginable. This liquid… Poison to anyone who merely touches it. Except you. Fatal to all but the Prophecy.

"Imagine being immortal. Living through anything, everything. Resistant to bullets, knife wounds, nuclear weapons. Can you fathom the strength of this all? The domination we'll suddenly have over the world?"

"We?"

"Yes, we."

Irina's cell phone rang, and she lifted it to her ear. "Yes?" Pause. "Excellent." She glanced at Sloane and told him the heart had arrived; Sark was making the transfer now. She proceeded to instruct Sark further, but a roar of gunshots interrupted her and she pulled the phone away from her ear.

Sark's voice rang loudly in the room, "Get out of there now!" And then the phone went dead.

Sloane darted for Sydney, pulling the vial off the syringe. "Quick, hold her arm down." Sydney writhed as hard as she could, yet Irina's grip on her was firm as Sloane's steady hand neared. Irina's arm flew off Sydney, taking her by surprise as she ripped the mysterious Rambaldi liquid from Sloane and stabbed him hard in the chest.

He gasped sharply, clutching his heart, and fell to his knees. Sydney gaped at her mother as Sloane collapsed dead on the ground. "Dammit, I told you not to pursue this!" Irina shouted.

"Mom, what's going on?"

Sydney's palms were moist with sweat as Irina raced around the room. She searched hastily through the pipes. "The heart transplant procedure would have killed you." Irina returned before Sydney, dropping her shoes at her feet. "Sloane was too blinded by the potential to see the truth. He would have performed this procedure regardless of my presence… Which is why I killed Viktor Yudin and took over Omega."

"_You_ killed Viktor Yudin?"

"And I even warned you to stay away, I tried to protect you. But I knew you were too stubborn." Irina promptly lifted the vial from the table, ripping off the cap and pouring its remnants onto Sloane's body; his flesh fizzled away. "He shall never more bring forth the works of Rambaldi."

Sydney's eyes wandered rapidly from Sloane to her mother. "I… I don't understand."

Footsteps tromped overhead, and both women's eyes traveled to the ceiling above them. Irina leaned down to kiss Sydney's cheek. "I do hope we meet again," she whispered before turning and escaping from the room.

Sydney sat in disbelief, panting heavily, her head utterly jumbled with newly transplanted information. Then she did only what initially came to mind: she screamed. "Vaughn! Dad! Dixon!"

Her eyes slipped closed as her cries reverberated through the halls. The next thing she knew, a heavy gun clattered to the floor, and she opened her eyes to find Vaughn racing towards her, his fingers fumbling to find a knife in his pocket to cut the ropes binding her to the chair. "Jack, she's in here!" he hollered behind him, cutting so vehemently he sliced the tips of his own fingers. Severing the last rope, he pulled Sydney to his chest. "Oh thank God," he sighed into her neck.

He pulled away, his palms finding their rightful places against her jaw, and he stared with concern into her eyes. Sydney noticed Jack enter the room, looming in the corner. She saw his eyes wander to the floor where Sloane lay, and Vaughn's eyes soon followed.

They asked no questions immediately. Jack slipped Sydney's shoes back onto her feet, and Vaughn helped her into a standing position, aiding her weak muscles as he walked her through the corridors. Sydney's senses returned to her, as well as her strength despite dehydration, and she questioned, "Where are we?"

"Upstate New York," Vaughn answered, taking extra caution as they ascended two flights of stairs. Jack held open the door for them, and they emerged onto the building's rooftop. Helicopters roared through the air, wind blowing Sydney's hair in every which direction. They rushed towards the nearest one and Jack helped Sydney inside. Vaughn closed the door and turned to Sydney as the helicopter rose. "We're going to the airport. A plane will take us home, LA home, and we'll get you checked out. Are you hurt?"

She shook her head, silently laying it atop Vaughn's shoulder. _Home_. They were finally going home.

A/n: Aww, one chapter left, guys! It's so sad. That it's ending, I mean, not the chapter. Good chapter. Yes yes, good chapter. Please review! 


	12. Encore

**Chapter 12: Encore**

A/n: I'm going to cry. It's the last chapter of this fic! I can't believe it. It's so strange for it to be ending, I've worked on it for so long. But you just want the last chappie, don't you? And therefore, I give a major thank-you to all of you who have read this, reviewed this, and glanced at it once and thought 'that's nice.' I really really thank you all. I'm working on something new right now and hopefully I can get it up this summer.

I agree, end the flippin' author's note and gimme the final act!

– – – – – – –

After reaching the airport, many of the agents split into separate directions. Dixon, Jack, and Lauren stayed behind to make sure all the arrested Omega members were taken care of, in particular Sark, Desmond, and Kerri. Marshall opted to stay with his wife and son awhile longer, waiting until the baby was ready for the long journey to Los Angeles. Weiss, Vaughn, and Sydney, however, immediately boarded a CIA issued jet. There, they re-hydrated Sydney and prepared themselves for the briefing of a lifetime.

Sydney took everything in as she boarded the plane. She had wanted to arrest Kerri and Desmond herself so badly; she wanted to run away and battle them now, just to show them how strong she truly was. But she had heard that Vaughn beat Desmond up badly, and that knowledge helped her feel better.

Also, she had a quick chat with Vaughn before boarding the plane. She needed to know about his divorce. Remembering back to the conversation in the hospital, he said he and Lauren were "working things out." Now he told her that he didn't want Sydney to know what was truly going on; that if he gave her too much hope and the divorce did not go through, he couldn't have forgiven himself. He waited, keeping the divorce a secret from her until it was finalized, which happened to be Finale night.

They all took their seats as the plane took off, but once it flew safely above the clouds they huddled together to talk. Vaughn held Sydney's hand firmly as Weiss eyed them suspiciously. "Okay, is there something I missed?"

Vaughn shrugged as Sydney sipped her water. "I kind of got a divorce."

"And you didn't tell me?"

"I told you when I filed it."

"No you didn't!"

"Boys!" Sydney interrupted. She needed to piece together everything. Rambaldi, Sloane, her mother, the CIA's late arrival… She didn't need their petty arguing. "What took you so long to find me?"

"We had no leads. But can we start from the beginning? What happened to you once you got to Desmond's dressing room?"

"He said something about a drink, getting a Black Russian, that's when I knew. I had my gun pulled ready to catch him, but someone nailed me from behind on the head. I'm assuming it was Kerri… Can you believe she was a part of Omega?" Her mind fumed at the thought of that woman.

Both men shook their heads; no. "We found her name on Desmond's computer after you were gone," Weiss told her. "Kerri Bian, stage name Kerri Jenison. It turns out there was a lot more information on Desmond's computer than what Jack first discovered. Great job planting that tracker on his lap top. How did you manage that anyway?"

"Um…" Sydney glanced over at Vaughn, his expression suddenly limp. "It's a long story. Anyway, when I woke up, I was tied to the chair in that room. It had only been a few hours after the show–"

"A few hours?" Weiss asked. "Syd, it's been two years since the final show."

Vaughn shot daggers at his friend. "Really not funny."

"Sorry."

"Yes, a few _hours_ later, and Desmond and Kerri were there. They told me I was going to meet their boss, and find out about my missing years. When they left, I fell asleep, and when I woke up, Sark fed me breakfast."

"Fed you?"

"Fed me. So then… I met the boss."

"Sloane."

"No," Sydney corrected. "Irina. It turns out Omega took me during those two years. And Sloane… It was because of Rambaldi. Sloane had translated his manuscripts, and they needed my blood for something, because I was the Prophecy. But it turned out they mistranslated something. They needed my body instead.

"They left me alone for most of today. Then Sloane and my mother returned. He was going to inject me with this… This Rambaldi liquid. And when the heart arrived, they were going to give me a transplant. Sloane planned to use it, and me, to gain power."

"The Di Regno heart was how we found you. We spent most of the night looking for leads, any contact who might know anything. And we had nothing. So we looked through Desmond's files again and found more intel. Weiss was actually the one who heard about the heart being transferred. Luckily, we were able to locate its destination to that facility in New York where we found you. Who knows what might have happened had the heart actually gotten to Sark."

"I would have been dead," she stated bluntly. "That liquid was fatal, and my mother stabbed Sloane with it. He was unaware it would kill me, and she… She saved my life. I was 'prevented, at vulgar cost' because of her. And then she escaped."

The agents sat for a moment, each deeply pondering the recent turn of events. Sydney finally stood from her chair and lay down on the couch behind where they previously sat. She claimed that after being forced to sit for nearly twenty-four hours, all she wanted to do was lie down. Vaughn moved to sit on the couch's edge, his hand finding its way to her cheek to stroke it.

"You didn't catch my mother," she stated rather than asked.

Vaughn remained still for a moment, then shook his head. "We got Desmond, Kerri, and Sark. They're all that matter. Punching Desmond… It felt so good."

"And Kerri; I don't even…" She sighed, too distraught for words. "So how were things at Sardi's?"

"They got all of them. I was amazed."

"Not Becca Green?" she asked with a faint hint of smile.

"No. Turns out she was just pregnant. All those times she disappeared between rehearsals she had morning sickness. She didn't want anyone to find out."

Interesting. But Sydney didn't care about the members arrested at Sardi's. Her interests belonged to other higher ranking members. "Vaughn, what all did you find on Desmond's lap top?"

He cast a glance to Weiss, who then decided to head to the front of the cabin to begin writing reports. "We found information about your missing years. Details of their intentions, dates, numbers…" He hesitated before softly adding, "pictures." He grabbed her hand and squeezed it firmly. "Do you want to see?"

"No, I really don't. It's funny, all this time I've wondered about those years, and now that we're aware of that information, I don't want to know. I just want to forget they ever happened."

"If I had known you were alive…"

"I know." She smiled at him, what felt like for the first time in eons. And he smiled back. "So where do we go from here?"

He sighed. "I honestly don't know." She nodded, closing her eyes. She felt him kiss her hand before releasing it at her side. He covered her with a blanket and waited for her to drift off to sleep.

– – – – – – –

Upon returning to Los Angeles, Sydney resettled in her apartment next door to Weiss's, the home that wasn't exactly her home. Home had been with Francie, then home had been in New York City, but now home was oddly here. Vaughn gathered a few belongings from the house he shared with Lauren, but ultimately crashed at Weiss's place. Jack, Dixon, and Lauren arrived the next day, and work resumed as usual.

One would think, or at least Sydney did, that after a long term undercover mission, the participants would receive a hefty vacation break. However, the officers at the Agency were cold, cruel people with black hearts, and they forced them to sit at their desks and write lengthy reports and attend boring debriefs. The main joy of Sydney's days came at dinner, when she joined Weiss and Vaughn.

These dinners consisted mainly of conversations between Sydney and Vaughn with an occasional smart-ass comment from Weiss, but this allowed Sydney to ease back into their relationship. They weren't back where they used to be, but they were moving in a favorable direction. Quite favorable.

One quiet evening two months after their return, he and Sydney were sorting through boxes that had just arrived from New York City. The CIA had taken the liberty of sending Sydney her things back to her. Slowly.

"Vaughn, look! It's all my winter stuff!" She pulled out a fuzzy hat and plopped it on her head at a tilt. "Don't you miss the cold, and the snow, and the slush?"

"No."

"Now even a little?" she asked playfully.

"Because frostbite is _so_ much fun," he countered back with sarcasm. He stared with uncertainty at a box full of clothing, then glanced at Sydney as she piled the winter coats, gloves, and scarves into her closet. "Can't we do this later?"

"What, unpack?" He nodded. She kicked her now empty box aside, staring at the many still full as she grabbed his hand and pulled him to the living room. "I suppose we can. Thank you so very much for all your hard work."

"Hey, I carried I few of them inside," he laughed, falling with her onto the couch. She turned her body and pressed against his chest, kissing him hard on the lips. When she pulled away, she leaned her forehead against his. She still couldn't believe Vaughn was back in her life. How impossible did she think it was months ago? It no longer mattered what had happened since she disappeared that night, at least it didn't to her. Everything that Omega did, everything from New York was forgotten completely. Neither Sydney nor Vaughn could forget Lauren, but she was transferring to Washington DC within a few days, and things would be less tense at work. But she understood the struggle he faced with her return, and he understood her feelings of confused anger and love.

She rolled over and lay sprawled across Vaughn's lap, and he tapped the winter cap that she still wore with a smile. "I'm thirsty," she declared. "Let's go get some tea."

She yanked him off the couch and nearly skipped to the kitchen, pouring them both tall glasses of tea. He, however, dragged her back to the couch while they drank. He watched her under her tilted hat as she slurped her tea through a pink straw; he smiled at the irony. He began to sing, "The way you wear your hat / the way you sip your tea/" Sydney lowered her glass, a smiling growing on her face as she set the tea onto the coffee table and snuggled against him. "/ The memory of all that / No, no! They can't take that away from me/"

He brought his fingers to her chin, turning her head so she could stare into his eyes as he continued to sing. "/The way your smile just beams/" He smiled himself. "/The way you sing off-key/"

"I do not!" she interjected, playfully smacking his shoulder.

"/The way you haunt my dreams / No, no! They can't take that away from me/ We may never, never meet again / on the bumpy road to love / Still I'll always, always keep the memory of…/" She gazed up at his eyes, the green pools staring back at her with such love. She settled back into his shoulder, a small smile still formed on her lips. His voice was like a whisper now, a serenade only for her to hear. "/The way you hold your knife / the way we danced 'til three / the way you changed my life­ / No, no! They can't take that away from me/ No, they can't take that away from me!"

He kissed her temple and hummed a few familiar tunes, simply enjoying cuddling with her. And still, Sydney couldn't contain her smile. She had missed him so much– and he likewise– and now that they were together again, she knew she would never, ever let him go. Now Rose's last message to Sydney became clearer than ever. Everything had changed so much in the course of the last three years, some for the better, some for the worse, but she managed to find a way to make the changes suitable for her. And while they still had a few issues to work out, new things were as good as they used to be. "Stay the night with me," she insisted.

"Absolutely," he whispered back, kissing her temple again, followed by her cheek and lips.

Her life had taken an incredible turn. She and Vaughn were together again, they were content, healthy, and communicative, her mother had saved her life and future from Sloane, and she found a noticeable upgrade of respect from fellow agents (and directors) at work. She squeezed Vaughn harder in her delight, following along his hummed tune in her head.

_I got rhythm /_

_I got music /_

_I got my man /_

Who could ask for anything more?

Fin

A/n: Aw, it's over! Well, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, not to mention the whole fic. As I said before, there will be no sequel. Please leave me a last review!


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